Inferno
by Lyselle
Summary: "If-if you don't survive, and I do, I'll never be the same, and you know it." Katniss Everdeen's life starts to burn down in an inferno that her best friend's also gotten himself caught in. AU Hunger Games.
1. Chapter 1

**_**Inferno**_**

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><p><strong>Disclaimer: I am not Suzanne Collins and I don't own the Hunger Games<strong>

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><p><strong>Chapter 1<strong>_  
><em>

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><p>"Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor!"<p>

I watch Effie Trinket's delicate hand wind its way into the glass ball that holds the names of all of District 12's girls. _Please don't be me, please don't be me,_ I repeat tediously in my head as a small slip of paper is carefully chosen from the ball and pulled out. Effie takes her time unfolding the paper and smoothing it out.

"Primrose Everdeen," she calls out in her Capitol accent. I blink.

The crowd tuts and mutters the way they always do when a twelve year old's name is called out. It's hardly fair to put a twelve year old in an arena against eighteen year olds and expect them to fight each other. In addition to being unfair, it's cruel and sick and disgusting.

Falling. I think I'm falling and a boy from the Seam catches me before I actually hit the ground. My mind is blank and my eyes are unfocused as I straighten myself up hastily. I'm completely rigid as I watch Prim walk stiffly towards the stage, her hands balled into tiny fists at her side and her face drained of color. I can hardly breath, and the shock of hearing Prim's name doesn't wear off for a few minutes.

Her name was only in once. How could this happen? I did everything in my power to make sure this didn't happen.

_The odds are certainly not in my favor._

I am brought back to life when I see Prim's blouse become untucked from her skirt, and the familiar motion snaps me out of my daze.

"Prim!" I scream. To her credit, Prim completely ignores me and walks on. "Prim!" Another strangled cry escapes my throat.

I push my way out of the crowd of sixteen year olds and as soon as I'm out, I hoarsely call out, "I volunteer."

Only the people standing around me hear my cry, and their eyes widen, and I know they I'm crazy. No one in their right mind would seal their fate by willingly going into the Hunger Games. But this is my little sister, and although Prim has determination and spirit, those things can't keep you alive in the arena. I walk a little faster until I'm behind Prim, and I grab her hand and pull her behind me. "I volunteer as tribute!" I call out. My voice comes out steadier than I expected. Everyone hears me this time.

There's a collective gasp from the crowd and Effie Trinket pauses, for once at a loss for words. The whole volunteering protocol is a bit rusty in our district, since no one has volunteered for decades. The rule is that when a boy's name is read, another boy can volunteer to take his place, and a girl can take the place of another girl whose name has been read.

"Well, I'm not sure if you can do that quite yet-" Effie starts, but is interrupted by the mayor.

"What does it matter?" the mayor speaks gruffly, looking at me with sadness clear in his eyes. He doesn't know me very well, but I know he recognizes me as his daughter's companion at school and the girl who sells him strawberries.

"What does it matter?" he repeats. "Let her come forward."

I walk up the steps to the stage as calmly as I can, given the circumstances. I try to keep my expression as placid as possible while Prim screams hysterically and reaches for me. Her frail arms lock around my waist.

"Let go!" I hiss harshly, even though it breaks my heart. "Go away, Prim!"

Her tiny hands are suddenly lifted off of me, and I involuntarily glance back to see Gale pry her off with a pained expression. "Up you go Catnip," he says in a wavering voice. Prim continues to cry and scream. I try to smile reassuringly at both of them, but I just end up twitching my lips instead.

"What's your name?" Effie Trinket asks me as soon as I reach the stage.

"Katniss Everdeen," I manage to gasp.

"I bet my buttons that was your sister. Don't want her to steal all the glory, do you? Let's give a round of applause to our newest tribute!" she exclaims, her pink hair bobbing.

Silence. The citizens of District 12 are all silent. _We do not approve_, they say, _we do not condone_. Effie squirms a bit. This is not the reaction she expected.

One by one, almost everyone touches three fingers of their left hand to their lips and holds it out to me. It is an old gesture for showing admiration, for saying good-bye to a loved one. I blink back tears. I don't know what I did to deserve this gesture. Maybe it was because these people had met Prim or knew my parents. I myself don't know many of District 12's residents, because my hostile and sullen attitude doesn't tend to endear people to me.

Effie, not wanting to lose control of the situation, quickly reaches into the boy's bowl of names with long, manicured nails, and the cameras are all hungrily trained on her, eagerly awaiting to see which unlucky boy will get chosen.

I take the chance to try to compose myself. Everyone will be watching the replays of the reapings in the evening, and they'll be analyzing every tribute. The last thing I want to appear as is a weakling, because no one will bet on and sponsor a weakling.

_Deep breaths,_ I tell myself, _deep breaths_. I don't think my advice helps me much, because I begin to feel slightly dizzy and nauseous.

"Peeta Mellark!" Effie sqeuals in a ridiculously cheery voice as soon as she has picked out a slip of paper. She is met by more unsettling silence from the crowd.

My heart sinks as I register the name. The baker's son. _Why him?_ I think. Peeta Mellark had saved my life a long time ago, so long ago that he'd probably already forgotten the incident. But I haven't forgotten, and I don't want to be turned against him in the Games. I can see Peeta walking through the crowd robotically. He's making an effort to conceal his emotions, but his eyes betray him and his jaw twitches. There's a vulnerable look to him I've seen so often in prey.

I hear a series of thuds as he climbs up the steps, and he walks towards the center of the stage, across from where I am standing. I can feel his gaze on me, but I don't glance back at him in case I actually lose it at the sight of him.

I stare straight ahead into the stubbornly silent crowd, and out of the corner of my eye I watch the outskirts of the square where Prim, my mother, and Gale's family are standing in a small bunch.

I can just make out Prim's small figure locked tightly in my mother's frail arms. Both of Gale's brothers look like they are trying to sooth Prim, and Hazelle is standing a bit off to the side, with what I assume is Posy in her arms. Gale is probably already back in the eighteen year old boys' section. I scan the eighteen year olds' section, but it's too far away and there's too many dark heads crowded together for me to make out any individuals.

"Any volunteers?" Effie Trinket asks from behind me. Her voice is still high and cheerful, but there's no hopefulness in it. Two volunteers in one reaping is too much to ask of District 12.

That's when I spot Gale bobbing through the crowd. Some people are trying to stop his progress while others just get out of his way.

"I volunteer," Gale says, his voice slightly muffled.

_He wouldn't. _

Foolishly, I hope that I'm the only one who's heard him, and I can see someone trying to pull him back.

Unfortunately, though, Effie seems to have incredible listening skills and she asks cautiously, "Did I hear someone volunteer?"

Gale breaks free from whoever was holding him back, another tall boy from the Seam that he probably knows from school. "I volunteer," he says clearly.

_No. _

Effie looks shocked and giddy. "How terribly exciting! Two voluteers in one day? Unheard of! This looks like a good year for District 12!" She pauses, waiting for applause that never comes.

Gale walks briskly towards the stage, climbing the steps easily. Two Peacekeepers drag Peeta away, who is protesting against Gale volunteering. "Don't go, Gale. You and Katniss, you know what's going to happen," he says wildly. Anyone else would've gratefully bolted off of the stage, and yet Peeta tries to hold his ground.

I barely know Peeta, so why is he trying to spare me the pain of going into the Games with Gale?

Peeta's words don't make any sense to Effie, but most of District 12 probably understands his message. Everyone knows Gale and I are close, close enough for girls to shoot me glares at school, even though we're not _that_ kind of close. One is not complete without the other.

Only one person makes it home from the Hunger Games, and there's a good chance it'll be neither Gale or me, and if the odds are somehow in our favor, which seems increasingly unlikely, only one of us will come home. I try to imagine life without Gale, which only makes the pounding in my head increase until I think it will burst.

"Gale, don't," I say hoarsely, once he's close enough to hear what I'm saying. I would like to chuck him off of the stage for doing something so stupid, but I settle for digging my nails into his wrist. If Gale feels any pain, he doesn't show it and ignores me.

"Peeta, move," he says gruffly.

"But-" Peeta argues, only to be cut off by Effie.

"Well honey, this young man here did volunteer, so I'm afraid you have no choice but to leave. Maybe you'll get chosen next year," she says apologetically, flashing Peeta a smile, like the Games are some sort of honor he hasn't earned yet. I scowl. The two Peacekeepers holding Peeta manage to get him off of the stage.

Satisfied, Effie turns to Gale."What's your name, young man?"

"Gale Hawthorne," Gale tells her, and I wince at this tone of voice. It may sound confident to everyone else, but I can hear the masked anger and hate.

"No," I say feebly, barely audible to even myself. What am I saying no to? I don't know. Maybe I'm saying no to Gale volunteering, or Prim being reaped, or the Games in general.

Gale plants himself firmly by my side, and reaches for my hand. Too numb to protest, I let his hand grip mine. I quickly glance up to see his expression, and I see anger burning so fiercely in his eyes that it startles me and I look out into the crowd again, although I don't know what else to expect. Gale's been a rebel since birth, and today's events only fueled his fire.

"Well, there you have it! Gale Hawthorne and Katniss Everdeen, the tributes for the 74th Hunger Games," Effie practically shouts, trying to get a positive reaction out of District 12's citizens.

Haymitch Abernathy decides that this is the moment to appear on stage and embarrass himself. He staggers out of his chair and towards Gale and me. He drapes one arm around me, and the old drunk is clutching a bottle of liquor in the other hand, which he slings across Gale's neck like they're best buddies. Gale and I both visibly flinch at the contact.

"Look at them!" Haymitch yells. "They have more... spunk! More spunk!" He hollers triumphantly, seeming proud of finding the right word.

He looks directly into a camera and points at it as he says ,"More than you. More than you!" I can't tell if he's taunting the audience or Capitol, and I can't bring myself to care. Haymitch is supposed to be our mentor for the Games, but I can't see how he'll be able to help.

Haymitch's words seem to break the spell cast over District 12. People are suddenly rowdy and yelling. Obscenities are thrown into the air and directed at cameras and Effie Trinket herself. Mayor Undersee stands up, knowing what this could lead to. He rushes to the microphone. "Citizens! Ladies and gentlemen! Please quiet down, or there will be consequences."

The mayor lets the words 'consequences' hang in the air, to get his message across. You may be punished for this, he's saying silently. No one seems to care and someone starts chanting. "Bring them back! Bring them back!"

A few more people surrounding the man join in, and then some more people join, and soon most of the town square is chanting.

"Bring them back!" they all say in unison, sending a message to the Capitol. A simple phrase, but it means so much. They're not just talking about Gale and me, the crowd is talking about all of the children we've lost to the Capitol, all of the lives that have been shattered because of the Games.

Gale releases my hand from his grasp and instead wraps an arm around my upper waist protectively. I don't care much at the moment because my head is spinning faster and faster and I can barely comprehend what is happening around us.

Peacekeepers that were bordering the town square suddenly close in on the crowd, pushing everyone into the center of the square. People keep chanting, not paying attention to the Peacekeepers. I can't remember the last time District 12 showed this much defiance, this much courage.

Only when bullets are fired into the air does the chanting cease. My eyes widen and I can vaguely hear myself screaming for Prim as I watch people running and yelling. Gale has my hand in a death grip, supporting me with his other arm when my knees weaken. The crowd is in a frenzy with everyone running in all directions. People dive into nearby shops and houses, seeking cover.

Effie Trinket is frozen at the microphone, her mouth opening and closing as if she can't decide what to say. The situation is beyond her reach, and I'll bet it confuses her. In her eyes, the Games are an extravaganza, an honor that everyone should be excited about.

I don't think anyone's ever seen a reaping like this one.

The bullets stop after a few moments, and Gale and I are led towards the Justice Building by Peacekeepers, where we can say our final goodbyes. We don't get to see what becomes of the crowd, and I'm not able to turn around because a Peacekeeper stands behind me, prodding my back with a gun.

I look over at Gale and his expression is unreadable. His arm falls from my waist, but I catch his hand with my own sweaty one, needing something to anchor me.

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><p><strong>I know this type of story is becoming more and more overused, but I just wanted to give it a shot :)<strong>

**Thanks for reading everyone :D**

**Reviews are appreciated ;)**


	2. Chapter 2

_**Inferno**_

**Disclaimer: I am not Suzanne Collins and I don't own the Hunger Games.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 2<strong>

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><p>As soon as we enter the Justice Building, Gale's hand is pried away from my own. I almost cry out for him but I bite my tongue, scolding myself for being so weak. I am led into a room at the beginning of the hallway, and I crane my neck to watch for a few moments as the rest of the Peacekeepers take Gale further down into the building.<p>

After I'm seated in the room, the Peacekeepers leave me to myself and close the door, although I know that they are stationed outside of the room's entrance. For a few minutes, I blankly stare around at the room, trying to collect my thoughts. Everything in this place id exquisitely decorated, from the lace-trimmed cushions to the expensive rugs on the floor. Out of habit, I mentally calculate how long the money from the things in this room could keep my family going. Six or seven months, I decide.

_Gale is such an idiot, _is the first coherent thought I form. Why did he volunteer? What was he thinking? Surely he must know that now there is no one to support our families, and it's likely that they won't make it through winter this year with no one there to hunt for them.

Prim is too faint-hearted to hunt, and the Hob would scare the wits out of her. I don't even bother to think about what my mother could do for our families. Gale has taught Rory to hunt, but Rory's only twelve and he hasn't had as practice as me and Gale. He wouldn't be able to support both of our families. Besides, Gale is just as protective of Rory as I am of Prim, and he wouldn't want a burden like that to placed on Rory.

The thing that infuriates me the most, though, is that Gale broke one of our most crucial pacts. We had both sworn on our family's lives a few years ago that if one of us got reaped, that the other wouldn't volunteer. And that's exactly what Gale has done.

I begin to feel more and more hopeless and helpless as the seconds tick by, but I restrain myself from crying. If I cry now, then my eyes and nose will be red, and there's going to be plenty more cameras filming us when me and Gale board the train to the Capitol.

My mother and Prim finally emerge into the room, and Prim immediately runs up to me and plants herself in my lap, with her chin resting on my shoulder and her arms around my neck. It's obvious that she's been crying, but right now Prim is making an effort not to appear upset for my sake. I smile inwardly at her thoughtfulness, but the smile doesn't reach my face.

Mother's arms are around both of us, and we all just sit there for a few minutes, trying to soak up these last moments. I eventually come to my senses and hold back tears as I tell them what they must do. I tell Prim about the plant book my dad had left for us, and I tell her to try and find as many of the edible plants recorded in there as she can. Prim nods, her face hardening slightly and becoming more serious. I feel guilty about putting a responsibility like this on Prim, but I have no choice.

"If you're careful, you can get by eating the plants and getting milk and cheese from Lady," I say to Prim, and she nods solemnly.

"Promise me you won't take out any tesserae," I add, my grip on Prim tightening.

"I promise, Katniss," Prim replies. Her tone of voice and expression confirm that she won't.

"Good," I nod.

I turn to my mother.

"Listen to me," I say a bit harshly to her, but I couldn't care less at the moment. My mother nods blankly.

"Are you listening?" I repeat more harshly this time, my voice louder. Even Prim winces.

My mother seems to snap back into life. "I'm listening, Katniss."

"Don't leave Prim, okay? You can't clock out on the world again like you did before. I won't be here to keep you alive this time around, and you'll have to be there for Prim, okay?" I tell her, looking her right in the eyes. She doesn't even flinch.

"That was different, Katniss. I was sick. I can treat myself now, and it won't happen," my mother says firmly. I wish I could fully believe her, but a small part of me is still suspicious. There's nothing I can do about it though, so I take my mother's word for it and nod at her.

All three of us are silent again, huddled together on the couch and absorbing each other's warmth. There's so many unsaid words and apologies and reassurances hanging in the air, but there's not nearly enough time to express them all. All too soon, my family is dragged away from the room and Prim's resolve breaks and she starts crying and screaming again. Guilt twists inside me and tears are brimming in my eyes, but I fight them and blow a kiss to Prim.

"Take care, Little Duck," I say in a shaky voice. I still can't bring myself to smile at her.

I expect there to be silence in the room again, but to my complete surprise Peeta Mellark enters the room. He's come alone, and he has a small package in his hand that he gives to me. I open the white bundle and find cookies inside of it, beautifully frosted and still warm. I have no idea what I did to deserve this gift.

Peeta sits down awkwardly in a velvet chair to the left of me, and he fiddles with his hands in his lap until he finally decides to speak up. "I'll take care of them both, Prim and your mother," Peeta says, looking at me, "I won't let them starve."

I let relief wash over me because something tells me that Peeta will keep his word, even though I don't know why he . Peeta hesitates before adding, "I'll look after Gale's family, too."

By this point I am completely baffled. Why would he go through all of the trouble of looking after both of our families? It's expensive to feed one family, let alone two extra ones for who knows how long. There's always the possibility that neither Gale or me will come back. What will happen then?

"He did volunteer for me. It's the only way I can pay him back for saving my life," Peeta says quietly, reading my thoughts. _What about me? _I want to ask. _What did I do to deserve this? _I already owed Peeta for saving my family's lives once, but now I would be forever in debt to him.

"I've always liked you, you know," Peeta says almost inaudibly.

I tense up at this. _Is he playing some sort of sick joke?_ I've promised myself to never marry and have kids, and I don't even know Peeta and vice versa. But the look on his face is so heartfelt and vulnerable that I have no choice but to reluctantly accept his confession. His words have made things significantly more awkward, so now I feel myself wishing that the Peacekeepers would come in and take him away, as rude as that sounds after everything Peeta's promised to do for my family.

"After I saw you sing the Valley Song on the first day of school, I knew I was a goner," Peeta says, almost sadly. I feel my cheeks heat up considerably with embarrassment, and I quickly glance at Peeta and see that he's blushing too.

"Thanks for the cookies," I say, more or less ignoring what Peeta said about the Valley Song. I vaguely remember that day. The only details I can clearly recall are that my dad had been there with me and that I was wearing a brand-new dress that I know my dad had worked hard to save up for.

Peeta nods and gets up and for just a moment I think he might hug me or something, which would only add to my bewilderment, but instead he wishes me good luck and disappears through the door. I am even more confused than ever.

I have just a few moments to myself before Gale's whole family bursts through the entrance. Posy's the first one to sit beside me, and she holds my hand with her own tiny one. Hesitantly, Vick settles down on my other side and Rory sits to the right of Posy, filling up all of the space on the couch. Hazelle sits on the chair that Peeta had previously occupied.

Everyone has puffy eyes and tear-stained faces, except for Rory who looks determined not to show any emotion at all. These people are my second family, and I feel almost as comfortable with them as I would feel with Prim. I hoist Posy onto my lap and stroke her red hair while she hiccups.

Vick looks like he might start crying again and Rory is rigid, while Hazelle looks weary like she just had a major fight. Knowing Gale, she probably did. But there's still a fierceness to Hazelle that lets me know she hasn't given up on the world like my own mother might have.

"The baker's son came in and told me he would look after my family and you guys," I say, breaking the silence. Hazelle just nods tiredly.

"I know he'll keep his word," I add, trying to reassure Gale's family that it's not just an empty promise meant to comfort us.

"I know you'll take care of each other, Katniss. You have a chance," Hazelle tells me. "Try to make it back if Gale doesn't, okay?" she adds, her voice breaking.

I nod tersely, and my expression hardens. Seeing how vulnerable Hazelle is, and with little Posy in my lap, I silently make a promise to myself, even though I'm still furious at Gale.

_Gale Hawthorne will make it out of that freaking arena whether he likes it or not. _

A Peacekeeper sticks his head into the room and tells Hazelle that it's time to go. I stand up to hug every member of Gale's family, and Hazelle kisses my forehead before leading all three of her kids out of the door. I feel empty when they leave, and sink into the couch, but one last visitor makes an appearance.

Madge Undersee.

She seems to be in hurry as she takes a pin off of her dress. "They let you take one thing into the arena to remind you of home, right? Will you take this pin?" she asks me, holding out the pin. I can now see that it is a bird, a Mockingjay, with a ring around it. It's made of solid gold. Again, I mentally calculate how long the pin could keep my family going. Five months.

The last thing on my mind was taking a souvenir of District 12 into the arena with me, and I'm quiet as Madge fastens the Mockingjay onto my dress. "There," she says, looking satisfied with the results.

"Good luck," Madge whispers. She hugs me and gives me a kiss on the cheek before leaving the room. I didn't even say goodbye to her.

We're both on and off friends, and always end up sitting next to her other in classes and assemblies because neither of us are very social. We never spoke much, so there wasn't a whole lot I could say to Madge and I find myself relieved I don't have to sit through another awkward fifteen minutes with someone I barely know.

Three Peacekeepers come in the room and tell me it's time to board the train. Two Peacekeepers stand on either side of me and one stands in the back in case I try to make a run for it. I don't give the idea of escaping much thought because no one's ever attempted escaping and succeeded before, and I'm guessing there's a reason for that. I've already accepted my fate.

Halfway to the train, three more Peacekeepers arrive beside me with Gale, and I cling to his hand again. I try to mask my emotions as we approach the train and all of the cameras and reporters. People are shouting questions at us, none of which I hear. It seems that Gale and I have already gathered a lot of buzz, being the first two volunteer tributes from District 12 in decades. The Peacekeepers change their formation so now two of them are on either side of me and Gale and two are behind us. Neither Gale or I smile or even acknowledge the attention and I keep a tight grip on Gale's hand. _There'll be more time for yelling at him later,_ I tell myself.

We both step inside of the sleek metal train that will take us to our doom in the Capitol.

And this is when it finally hits me that this is it, and that there's no turning back now.

I will die in the Hunger Games and Gale will be the victor.

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><p><strong>It's slow right now, but we're getting there :D<strong>

**As always, reviews are appreciated :)**

**If there's anything specific you'd like to see happen or any ideas you may have, please let me know and maybe I'll incorporate them into the story :D**


	3. Chapter 3

_**Inferno**_

**Disclaimer: I am not Suzanne Collins and I don't own the Hunger Games.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 3<strong>

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><p>"This is going to be so exciting!" Effie squeals once we're safely on the train and moving so that no more reporters can bother us. "Two volunteers! I've never had two volunteers to work with! We're going to make you shine, darlings," she gushes, her perfectly white teeth gleaming in the artificial light.<p>

Gale and I stare at her blankly.

Apparently nothing can dampen Effie's annoyingly happy mood, because she completely ignores the looks we give her and motions for both of us to follow her. She leads us through a spacious hallway with rooms on either side of us.

I gape at the decorations. They're even more expensive-looking than the furnishings in the Justice Building. Mother and Prim could last for at least a year on the money from this stuff. The Capitol has so much money that could be used to save thousands of lives in the poorest districts, but they choose to spend it on useless decorations and the Hunger Games instead.

_Idiots._

We come to a door marked _Gale Hawthorne. _Since Effie doesn't say anything to stop me, I walk in with Gale to see what the room's like. Effie's gaze drops to me and Gale's intertwined hands for a moment, and her pink eyebrows shoot up in surprise. I fight the urge to scowl at her, and I drop Gale's hand for the first time in nearly an hour so I can look around at the room by myself.

The room contains a huge bed that could probably fit all of Gale's family, a private bathroom, and more ridiculously fancy decorations. I run my hand over the curtains and recognize the fabric as pure silk, the same fabric that one of my mother's finest dresses was made out of. Of course, I had sold the dress a long time ago for food.

Effie opens the drawers of a large chest in the corner of the room to reveal a selection of luxurious clothes, all in Gale's size. I'm surprised that they were able to organize all of this in such a short amount of time, especially since Gale's size is so hard to find because of his freakishly tall height. The Capitol people may be idiots, but they're efficient idiots.

"Well, you can freshen up and meet us for dinner, and I'll take Katniss to her room," Effie says to Gale with a clap. Gale silently selects a dark green shirt and a pair of trousers and disappears into the bathroom. Effie tugs me into the hallway. We only pass two more doors until we come to one marked with my name.

"Your room is basically the same as Gale's," Effie tells me with a sweep of her arm, gesturing towards the interior. I look around and see that it is exactly the same, except that the drawers contain clothes in my own size. I nod in reply and Effie walks out of the room, reminding me to hurry up so I can be in time for dinner.

I have no intention of hurrying up and I take my time going through all of the clothes and picking some out. Most of the clothes are either silky, pink, or frilly, none of which I prefer. There are lacy shirts, fancy skirts, and other rich clothes that most of the girls in my grade would've died for, but I settle on a simple pair of black pants and a blue shirt with leather boots, not too different from what I would wear at home.

I carry my selected clothes into the bathroom, where the real problem awaits me.

The shower.

There's so many different buttons and settings that I can't decide what to do and just stand there for a few minutes, deep in thought. I can't make any sense of this twisted system, and I finally push three different buttons at once, which probably wasn't a good idea. Scorching hot water, a blob of soap, and something that smells like lavender rain down on me.

I almost scream as I frantically push two other buttons, and another glob of soap lands on me, but thankfully the water's temperature becomes bearable. I've never had a shower before, let alone a warm one, and I relish the feeling, standing there for who knows how long. I don't dare experiment with any more of the settings.

After I'm all cleaned up and feeling slightly dizzy from the sudden humidity in the bathroom, I push a button that looks like it might turn off the water. Instead I'm assaulted with the lavender perfume again. I rub my eyes and scramble out of the shower, leaving the water running. I quickly dry off and get dressed, and the stupid shower turns off by itself after a minute. Effie really should've explained how to use it.

I step out into the hallway and I see that Gale has also just emerged from his room. I walk up to him, the overpowering scent of lavender still hanging around me.

As soon I'm next to Gale, I'm hit with a strong smell of roses. Gale wrinkles his nose. "You smell like lavender, Catnip."

"You smell like roses," I retort.

"The shower?" we both ask at the same time. I let the corners of my mouth curl up just a tiny bit, and Gale chuckles.

"C'mon, we're already late," he says, reaching for my hand. I let him take it and we both arrive at the dining area together.

Haymitch is chugging a bottle of liquor when Gale and I arrive. He doesn't seem too bothered with the fact that we're extremely late, but Effie, on the other hand, is fuming. "All of the food is nearly frozen by now! I tell you two to go take a shower and change your clothes quickly, but you take an hour just to do that and come back smelling like a mutated garden!"

I try to stifle a smile at Effie's comment about the garden.

There are three different kinds of soups on the table, a roast chicken covered in different spices, cheeses, fruits, and desserts, but the smell of lavenders and roses overpowers everything. Even Haymitch smells us through his drunk stupor and mumbles something about dancing flowers.

Gale and I sit across from each other at the table. I take a few cubes of different cheeses, fill up a bowl with chicken soup, and take three pieces of the roast chicken. Gale's taken double my portions, and he's already stuffing himself with food. I pick up a spoon and start shoveling the soup into my mouth. The food may be cold, but it's still delicious and better than anything I have ever eaten.

Effie looks at us with mild surprise. "You two actually have manners," she observes, sipping a brown colored drink. "The pair last year ate everything with their hands. Can you imagine how disturbing that is?" Effie finishes with a sigh, as if expecting us to agree with her.

The tributes last year were a starving thirteen year old girl from the Seam, and an eighteen year old miner who was forced to beg for money on the streets. Anger flares up in me as I push my utensils to the side and pick up the bowl, draining the soup and purposely letting some of it dribble down my face. Gale has put down the fork he was using to eat his chicken. He starts ripping off large chunks of chicken and chews loudly.

Out of my peripheral vision I see Effie's face contort with disgust, but she holds her ground and doesn't leave the room like I had expected her to. Gale and I take second and third helpings, opening our mouths wide while chewing and eating everything with our hands. Haymitch smirks.

Once the meal is done I begin to feel sick, but I'm determined to keep it down. I've been living on wild meat, dandelion salad, and Greasy Sae's strange concoctions for years. I should be able to digest food that would qualify as normal. I glance over at Gale and see that he's looking a bit green, but he forces a smile when he sees me looking.

Thankfully, Haymitch doesn't do anything stupid and he just staggers to his room with a bottle in his hand after he finishes his meal.

Gale and I hang around the dining car for a few more minutes after finishing to see if there's anything else Effie wants us to do, but Effie dismisses us and tells us to go get some rest. We're going to prepare for the opening ceremonies tomorrow, when they introduce all of the tributes. My stomach clenches at the thought.

First there'll be the opening ceremonies, then training, one-on-one sessions with the Gamemakers to get our scores, then there'll be the interviews, and finally we'll get thrown into the actual Games.

_I'll probably be dead by next week, _I think grimly. _And Gale will go back home to_ _take care of our families._

Gale.

Now that I can finally think clearly again, my anger towards Gale is as fresh as ever as we walk in the direction of our rooms. Once we reach the right hallway, Gale gestures for me to come into his room with him. He sits on the bed and expects me to sit down beside him or at least take a seat on one of the many mini couches and chairs, but I remain standing against the wall.

"Catnip-" he starts, but I suddenly explode.

"Why the freaking hell did you volunteer, Gale? You _idiot_!" I yell at him, not caring who hears us.

"Katniss," he says gently, only a tiny bit surprised at my outburst. He knew this was coming sooner or later. I don't let him continue.

"You know only one of us is going to come out of there! There's a good chance it won't be either me or you! Because of your stupidness, our families could starve and die with no one around to feed them!" I scream at him. "The baker can only keep them going for so long!"

Gale looks confused at the mention of the baker and I vaguely realize that I hadn't told him about Peeta's visit. I don't dwell on the thought much because Gale's expression suddenly darkens. "Don't say that. You'll make it out of the arena."

"No I won't! There's people who have been trained to kill poor little District 12 rats like us! How can you possibly expect one of us to make it out of that damned arena?" I'm on the verge of hysterics now.

Gale stands up, his blazing eyes the only thing I can clearly make out in the dim room. "You _will _make it out of that arena, whether you like it or not."

"You are going to be the victor of the 74th Hunger Games, whether you like or not," I hiss at Gale.

"No, I won't," Gale says sharply, his own voice rising.

"What am I compared to you?" I ask Gale, not a trace of sadness in my voice. I'm only stating the facts. "You have a better chance of getting out of that arena. You're probably one of the oldest tributes and one of the strongest, and you can-"

Gale is right in front of me in a flash, his footsteps deathly silent. I stop mid-sentence and stare at Gale. He clenches one hand into a fist and punches the wall to the right of my head. Gale keeps his arm on the wall, making me feel like an animal caught in a trap. My breath catches in my throat, my thoughts are racing.

Gale leans dangerously close to me, and swiftly stoops down his head to whisper in my ear. "I will make sure you don't die in that arena, okay? _You will not die_," Gale whispers in a low voice, banging on the wall for each word in the last sentence.

Shivers run down my spine, one after the other, and my eyelids involuntarily flutter closed. I clench my teeth and open my eyes again, pushing Gale away from me. He grabs my shoulders and shakes me, and I feel my stomach churn.

"Do you understand, Catnip?" Gale asks. His gray eyes are stormy and dark, full of determination and anger. "You'll go back to Prim and your mother, even if it's without me."

I pull myself away from him and start out the door, pausing slightly before leaving. "I won't let you do that," I say into the darkness of the room.

I don't wait for Gale's reaction and slam the door as I leave. My blood is on fire and my heart is pounding crazily. My face is hot with anger and I stomp all the way back to my room. I strip off all of my clothes angrily, ripping most of them in the process, and I throw them to the ground and trample the clothes with my shiny new boots.

I pause for a moment, considering, then take off one of my boots and fling it at a fancy vase sitting in the corner. The vase splits into a million shards of delicately painted porcelain. I know almost everyone on the train must've heard the crash, but they're all either pretending not to care or aren't bothered to deal with me at this time, because no one comes in to check on me or clean up the shattered vase.

_Good, _I think. _I don't need any of the Capitol's stupid subjects to help me._

I go to sleep just like that in my underwear, partially because I'm too exhausted put on any clothes, and partially because I don't want to wear anything Capitol-made if it isn't really necessary. With all of my emotions running so high, and after the argument with Gale, I expect tears to find their way into my eyes. To my surprise, the tears never come.

I stare at the intricate carvings on the ceiling, and I find myself wishing that I was back in District 12. I would willingly starve for months if it meant that I could back to Prim, go back to the simpler but still twisted life I led back home.

I fall asleep just like that, gazing at the ceiling and thinking impossible thoughts.

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading people! :D<strong>

**Feedback, comments, and suggestions are welcome :)**


	4. Chapter 4

_**Inferno**_

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><p><strong>Disclaimer: I am not Suzanne Collins and I don't own the Hunger Games.<strong>

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><p><strong>Chapter 4<strong>

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><p>"Katniss?"<p>

The voice sounds far away, and instead of acknowledging it I grumble and sink deeper into my coccoon of bed sheets and blankets.

Someone starts shaking me to wake me up, and I let out an exasperated sigh and let my eyes pop open. Gale is towering over me, gazing at me, looking only slightly annoyed. I get the feeling he's been watching me for a while.

I start to push my blanket off of myself when I remember that I slept in only my underwear. A slight flush creeps onto my face.

"I'll be there in a minute," I say to Gale. "I just have to change my clothes."

"Hurry up, Catnip. Don't want to be late for breakfast," he replies, smiling slightly.

Gale doesn't seem angry at me and it's like the argument last night never even happened. It infuriates me how quickly Gale has seemed to brush off the whole thing, as if it doesn't matter that he volunteered, as if it doesn't matter that our families might be starving.

I throw off the sheets and blankets covering me and I go to the chest full of clothes in the corner of the room. I would've worn my clothes from last night, but they were in a state that even I couldn't describe as decent. Besides, someone had already made a trip to my room while I was sleeping, because the clothes are gone from the floor and the shards of porcelain are all cleaned up. Sifting through the drawer, I find a plain burgundy shirt, and pants that are like the ones I wore yesterday.

Instead of taking a shower, I just splash my face with water and arrange my limp hair into my mother's elaborate braid. I'm not able to make the braid nearly as good as her, but it looks decent enough and I walk out of my room, closing the door gently behind me.

When I arrive at the dining car, Gale, Haymitch, and Effie are already seated. Effie is nibbling elegantly on a roll and she's trying hard to ignore Gale, who's stuffing himself with food again. Haymitch, as usual, is sipping something that looks like orange juice, but it's obviously been diluted with a strong spirit whose smell lingers in the air.

I take a seat next to Gale, and start filling my plate with large portions of everything on the table. Once I have a wide selection of fruit, rolls, and bread on my plate, I start digging in. I notice Gale sips something from a cup, but then makes a face and puts it back on the table.

Gale sees me watching him. "It's something called hot chocolate. It's way too sweet for me to drink," he says, offering me the cup.

I peek into the cup and see a thick, warm brown drink. Curious, I take a tentative sip and my eyes widen. The hot chocolate is a lot sweeter than anything I've ever had, but after a few more sips I get used to the sweetness and chug the whole thing down. It's delicious.

We're all in silence for a few minutes and the only sounds are of chewing and the clattering of dishes. Gale and I still haven't forgotten Effie's comment from last night, and we're both eating with our hands, much to Effie's horror.

When my stomach feels like it's going to split open, I push my plate away from me and wipe my hands the table, earning me another grimace from Effie. A few moments later, Gale does the same thing. It's easier to keep the food down today, and I don't feel as nauseous as the night before. A servant comes to take away our plates, but after that the dining car is silent save for the constant rumbling as we pass over the train tracks.

"We should be in District 2 now," Effie says to break the silence.

"We're near the Capitol. I bet you've seen it TV, haven't you? It's a _hundred_ times more marvelous in person." I'm amazed at how Effie always finds something to gush about, and her accent still doesn't fail to amuse me.

"It's reassuring to know I'll be dying in a place that's just _marvelous_," Gale says sarcastically. I jab his shin with my foot under the table.

We're all silent again, until Haymitch decides to speak up for the first time.

"Are you two sweethearts or something?" Haymitch asks us with a smirk. His words aren't even slurred, and I realize he's had a lot less alcohol than I originally thought.

"Why would you think that?" Gale asks him smoothly. Gale has managed to keep his composure, while I can feel my cheeks heating up significantly.

"You're holding hands," Haymitch states simply.

To my surprise, I realize he's right. I'd subconsciously latched on to Gale's hand under the table sometime after finishing my food. The heat spreading across my cheeks suddenly becomes a blaze, and I look down at my lap, dropping Gale's hand at the same time. Haymitch laughs at my reaction, while Gale is still indifferent to Haymitch's teasing. Effie's watching all of us carefully, trying to see where this is going. I bet she's never seen a show like this during breakfast.

"The closer you are, the harder it gets," Haymitch says after he's done laughing at us.

I don't grasp the meaning of his words immediately, but Gale does. Gale's expression darkens and his eyes are full of rage as he swiftly picks up a fork and hurls it at the glass of orange liquor by Haymitch's side. The glass gets knocked over onto the floor, and Effie shrieks as shards of glass fly up into the air.

_What Haymitch really meant to say was that the more we rely on each other, the harder it will be to watch the other die._

Gale then picks up his knife and throws it at Haymitch, aiming directly for his head. My eyes widen and I stand up, opening my mouth to warn Haymitch. Haymitch may be a useless drunk, but I don't want him to get fatally wounded at the hands of Gale.

There's no need for my warning though, because Haymitch has master reflexes and he ducks his head swiftly, the knife missing his scalp by milliseconds. The knife lodges itself in the wall behind Haymitch.

Haymitch seemed amused by Gale's rage a minute ago, but the old drunk just looks plain angry now. He stands up, and one second Haymitch is by his chair, and the next he's pinned Gale against the wall. Effie is frozen to her spot, watching everything in complete horror and shock. Haymitch raises his fist to punch Gale, but anger flares up in me, and without thinking, I grab my own knife and fling it towards Haymitch's head. Haymitch apparently has eyes on the back of his head, though, because he simply ducks down again and pulls Gale down with him so that the knife sticks in the wall.

I curse myself for being so stupid. If Haymitch hadn't tugged Gale down with him, my knife would've hit Gale square in the face. Even through all of my anger and hatred towards Haymitch, I can't help but be awed at his abilities. For an old drunk, he has plenty of good moves and his mind and reflexes are sharp. There's a reason he was the victor of the 50th Hunger Games.

Haymitch releases Gale, who's unharmed and still fuming, and looks between me and Gale. He gestures for me to stand with Gale towards the side of the room, and I consciously do so, wondering what Haymitch is up to.

"To think that I actually got a pair of fighters this year," Haymitch says. "Any other skills you have?"

"We can both hunt," I supply, speaking for both me and Gale, "I'm okay with a bow and arrows and Gale's good with traps and snares." I decided not to hold back anything from Haymitch. The more we impress him right now, the more chances we have of Haymitch helping us. Gale nods tersely, confirming my words.

Gale is still tense beside me, ready to bounce back if Haymitch attacks him again. Haymitch, however, doesn't seem interested in harming us anymore and instead he circles us, analyzing both of us. He prods our arms every now and then to check our muscles, and examines our faces.

"Not entirely hopeless," he comments after his inspection is complete, "You've both got a chance."

"What do you do, sweetheart?" he asks me. "Lift weights? Jump hurdles? Even though you're both from the Seam, you're fit. You've got muscle."

I don't answer his questions. Haymitch probably didn't expect me to reply because he carries right on with his analysis.

"You'll be an instant favorite with the ladies," Haymitch smirks, turning to Gale, "Not much work to be done on you, although you could improve on your attitude and try to control your anger."

Most of what Haymitch has said is true. Gale's strikingly handsome with high cheekbones and long eyelashes, and girls fall left and right for him in District 12. As long as Gale keeps his hatred for the Capitol under control, Gale's looks will get him attention from the Capitol women. Attention means sponsors, and sponsors mean money, and money means food...

"As for you, you won't look too horrible when your prep team's done with you, sweetheart," Haymitch says to me, interrupting my chain of thought. Is that his official nickname for me now? Sweetheart? I can't help but cringe inwardly at the thought.

"She looks fine," Gale snaps. Haymitch glances over at him with mild interest.

"Defensive, are we? Hiding something, Hawthorne?" Haymitch asks Gale lazily. I know what Haymitch is hinting at but I don't let myself acknowledge it.

Desperate to change the subject, I ask, "Any advice?" Haymitch laughs.

"Stay alive, sweetheart," he says, his gray eyes looking sharply into my own.

"Funny," Gale replies, his hands clenching into fists beside me. I can tell he's fighting the urge to punch Haymitch now.

"No, it's not funny," Haymitch snaps, "You have to stay alive to win the Games. Isn't that what every victor so far has done?"

There's a few moments of silence as Haymitch penetrates us with his gaze again.

"I almost don't hate you two," Haymitch says finally, looking both me and Gale in the eyes. _That's as close to love we'll ever __get with Haymitch,_ I think.

"I'll make a deal with you two. Neither of you interfere with my drinking, and I'll stay sober enough to help you," Haymitch says.

"Deal," Gale and I say at the same time. It may not be much, but we'll be needing as much help as we can get, including advice from Haymitch.

Haymitch starts to walk out of the room, but he pauses at the door. "One more thing. You have to go along with everything your stylists tell you do, whether you like it or not."

"But-" I say, my mouth falling open.

"You can't possibly expect us to-" Gale starts, but we're cut off by Haymitch. I know Gale and I are both thinking the same thing: What if our stylists decide to make us go nude?

"No buts, or the deal's off," Haymitch says firmly. I grit my teeth, and I definitely know that it's taking all of Gale's self control not to punch Haymitch right now.

"Fine," Gale says finally, answering for both of us. What other choice do we have? Haymitch leaves the dining car without another word.

"You'll be meeting your stylists and prep teams in about two hours, almost right when we get to the Capitol," Effie says out of nowhere, and I'm startled by her voice. I had completely forgotten that she was even here.

I nod at her and walk out of the dining car, with Gale close behind me.

_The opening ceremonies are tonight._

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><p><strong>I know this is a shorter chapter, but the next one will be pretty long. <strong>**I wanted to get this scene in before the opening ceremonies :D**

**Comment, feedback, suggestions, anything at all is welcome :)**


	5. Chapter 5

**_Inferno_**

**Disclaimer: I am not Suzanne Collins and I don't own the Hunger Games.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 5<strong>

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><p>I bite my lip as a woman named Venia puts another coat of sticky, honey colored stuff on my leg and then rips it all off with a strip of coarse fabric, ridding my legs of hair. I feel like a plucked bird, my skin raw and vulnerable.<p>

"That was the last one!" she says cheerfully in her Capitol accent. Her voice always goes up at the end of each sentence, making everything she says sound like a question. "My, you look _a lot_ better than you did when you first came in here!"

"Thank," I say to her, forcing a smile. I have to keep up my end of the bargain with Haymitch, and I figure that getting on my prep team's good side can't hurt. If I make them hate me, maybe they'll deliberately make all of this more painful than it already is.

"I've never had a chance to, er, do any of, um, _this_ in District 12," I finish awkwardly, gesturing around at all of the assorted supplies in the room. Different types of machines, cases of make-up, pots of sticky stuff in shades of pink and red, and even fake hair line the shelves in the room.

"You poor thing!" Venia gasps, looking genuinely shocked at my revelation. As if we have the money or time to waste on silly things like this in District 12. "That's why you were so hairy and filthy!"

I resist the urge to roll my eyes at the woman in front of me as she takes some sort of cream and rubs it all over my hairless body. The cream stings at first, but then it takes on the opposite effect and soothes my skin.

As soon as Gale and I had arrived in the Capitol and stepped off of the train, we were put into the custody of our prep teams at the Remake Center. My prep team consists of a man with orange corkscrew curls named Flavius, who has a strange obsession with purple lipstick. The other two are Venia, of course, and a plump woman named Octavia whose skin is dyed a peculiar light shade of green.

I've been here in the Remake Center for over three hours now. Flavius, Octavia, and Venia have worked non-stop to make me 'beautiful'. They've scrubbed all of the coal dust and grime off of my skin, somehow made use of my stubby nails and shaped them into perfect ovals, put some gunk on my face to make my skin look 'healthier', and rid my body off all of its hair (the most painful part of the whole process).

Venia gestures for me to stand up, and I do, even though I'm not wearing anything. I feel only slightly uncomfortable as Flavius, Venia, and Octavia all look at my new-and-improved self. All three of them are such total idiots that it feels like innocent animals are staring at me instead of actual people.

Flavius nods his head in approval at my appearance and turns to the mirror to apply another coat of lipstick. Octavia squeals about how that now I'm not covered in filth and muck, I actually look human. I resist the urge to slap them all and instead I wait impatiently for my stylist to come in so that this whole thing can be over.

"Call in Cinna," Venia tells Octavia, and Octavia nods vigorously, heading into the next room to retrieve my stylist.

A young man, who is presumably Cinna, walks into the room, and I'm pretty surprised at his appearance. Instead of the unnatural hair and skin colors most of the Capitol dons, Cinna's dark brown hair looks natural, the same for his brown eyes. In fact, I don't think any part of him has been enhanced by surgery or makeup, except for the thick gold eyeliner on both of his upper eye lids. It brings out the flecks of gold in his brown eyes, and instead of looking disastrous or overdone, the eyeliner looks attractive.

"Hello, Katniss," he says in a quiet tone of voice that lacks a Capitol accent.

"Hello," I say back.

"I'll just be a moment, alright?" Cinna says.

I fight the instinct to cross my arms over my chest as Cinna circles me. His gaze is practical and not lingering in any places, and he doesn't do anything to make uncomfortable or make any silly comments. I think that just maybe I've met a normal person from the Capitol.

"Who did your braid?" Cinna asks finally, his eyes trained respectfully on my face now.

"I made it, but it's not nearly as good as my mother's. She taught me," I reply.

"It's pretty elaborate," Cinna observes, "Your braid suits your face shape and almost completely balances your profile. Your mother has clever fingers."

I nod.

"You can get your robe and we'll talk about your costume for the opening ceremonies," Cinna says.

I fetch my robe from a hook hanging on the wall. I pull it on before following Cinna into another room. He gestures for me to sit down across from him at one of the tables to the side of the area. Once I'm seated, he presses a button on the side of his seat and two large plates full of chicken in an orange sauce elevate from the center of the table, along with tall glasses of some kind of juice.

I force down my food, even though I'm still full from the giant breakfast we had this morning. It would do me good to gain a few pounds before the Games start.

Cinna studies me carefully before speaking. "You must think we're stupid, us Capitol people."

I nod without thinking and Cinna doesn't look insulted. He just laughs. "Most of us are."

"You're new, aren't you? Is that why you're stuck with District 12?" I ask. I don't recognize Cinna from the past Games, and new stylists are usually given District 12, the district that no one wants.

"I'm new, but I _asked_ for District 12. I've been thinking about costume designs for District 12 for a while now, and I've finally gotten the chance to try them out," Cinna replies, an excited glint in his eyes.

"What's my costume?" I ask, getting curious. I have a feeling Cinna has something more creative than us going nude in mind.

"Well, of course you know that you have to dress in something that reflects your district," Cinna starts. All of the tributes have to wear something that represents their district's industry. District 4, fishing. District 11, agriculture. District 12, mining. "Well, your fellow tribute's stylist Portia and I think that the whole coal miner's thing is overused."

Overused is is an understatement. Ever since the Games have begun, a coal miner is the only thing that our tributes have dressed as, except for the one year when the whole nude-and-covered-in-coal-dust was the District 12 stylists' brilliant idea.

"Instead of focusing on the miners, we'll be focusing on the coal itself," Cinna continues.

_So I'm going to be a giant lump of coal? _I wonder how they're going to pull that one off.

"We were thinking that you can Gale could be dressed in the same outfit, to make a bigger impression," Cinna says.

_Two lumps of coal. How attractive. _

"How do you feel about being the girl on fire?" Cinna finishes, as if that's all the explanation I need. There's a mischievious look to his eyes that I'm not sure I like.

If I looked confused before, I must look completely bewildered right now because Cinna says, "We're going to set you two on fire. Literally."

That's when I take back my comment about Cinna being the only normal person from the Capitol.

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><p>Venia dabs one last bit of power on my nose before proclaiming, "She's ready."<p>

Octavia, Venia, Flavius, and Cinna all stand back and run their eyes over me, looking for anything they might have missed or need to fix.

I'm wearing a simple black unitard that covers me from neck to ankle. My hair has been neatened up and put back in its original braid, and it's admittedly better than the one that I had attempted to do. My face isn't overloaded with make-up, and there's only a bit of natural colored powder and dabs of shimmering powder to highlight my face. The costume's distinctive feature is that I'm also wearing a cape in dramatic shades of oranges and reds with a matching headpiece, both of which Cinna plans on igniting in flames.

"The girl on fire," I mutter, repeating the phrase Cinna had used. "Is this even safe?" I call out.

Cinna walks over to me and hands me a pair of shiny leather boots. I pull the right one on first, fumbling with the laces. The boot reaches almost up to my knee.

"It's not real fire, of course," he reassures me, "It's synthetic. Portia and I designed it ourselves, and we've tested it plenty of times."

That wasn't very reassuring, but I nod and smile at him anyway. I can tell that Cinna knows I'm not completely convinced, but he doesn't say anything else. Everyone decides I'm ready and Cinna leads me towards an elevator, with my prep team following close behind. Venia picks my cape up off the floor to make sure I don't step on it.

As we get into the elevator, I'm hit by a wave of claustrophobia, even though the elevator is spacious and well ventilated. I close my eyes and force myself to calm down, but my stomach still lurches as the elevator smoothly goes downwards. Even though the Capitol elevator couldn't have been any more different from the one in the District 12 mines, I can't help but feel like we're sinking deeper and deeper into walls of coal. There's a reason I never went to the mines on the annual school field trips.

Cinna picks up on my discomfort and gently asks me if I'm alright. I've never been one to trust people, especially Capitol people, so instead of telling Cinna anything near the truth, I manage to say, "I'm fine." It's obvious I'm nowhere near fine though, because even Venia asks me why I'm so pale. I just hope that I don't get stuck in here somehow, especially with people as moronic as my prep team.

The doors slide open with a ding, and the landing is so smooth that I don't even notice it. I'm the first one to rush out of the elevator, with my cape dragging on the ground, much to Venia's dismay. I see Gale standing by a black chariot among the hoards of people, with ebony horses tied to it. My prep team goes and stands off to the side, and Cinna is the only one who comes with me to the chariot.

Once I'm closer to Gale I see that he's dressed in an outfit that's the same as mine, just like Cinna said. A woman who must be Portia is standing with Gale, and she looks weary. I'm guessing that Gale didn't give her an easy time with the whole make over thing.

"You look different, Catnip," Gale says, studying my face as I approach. I shoot him a glare that says _shut up, _and I climb into the chariot with Portia and Cinna's guidance. Gale's prep team has barely touched or altered any part of him, just as I expected. There's nothing to fix about Gale's looks.

"They put some sort of powder on my face," Gale says, gingerly touching a finger to his forehead. Shimmering powder comes off on his finger pad. "See?" he says indignantly, and I crack a smile.

"A bit of powder is nothinq compared to what I've been through," I say dryly.

Portia and Cinna hurriedly arrange our capes and straighten our head pieces. Most of the chariots in front of us have already exited the Remake Center, and we're only three chariots away from going outside ourselves. Cinna disappears for a minutes and reappears with a lit torch in his hands.

"You rip off mine and I'll rip off yours," Gale says through gritted teeth, glancing at the torch in Cinna's hands. I nod. There's no need for extra words, I know exactly what he means.

Cinna sets fire to our capes, and I brace myself for the burning sensation that never comes. Instead, the flames just tickle me.

"It worked," Cinna says. He tilts my chin up with his finger and says, "Heads high, both of you. Smile at the crowd. They're going to adore you." He jumps off of the chariot just as District 11 rolls out of the Remake Center's massive doors.

Cinna starts to walk away when another thought occurs to him. "Hold hands!" he yells, his words barely audible over the opening music that's flooded my ears. Our chariot starts to move and I suddenly feel off balance and grab onto Gale's arm anyway. He chuckles and steadies me, holding my wrist and then adjusting our hands so that my small hand is cupped in his own.

I can hear people scream in terror when they first see the flames, and I can't blame them for being alarmed. The screams turn into cheers as they realize that the flames won't eat them alive. I freeze up when I see a giant screen projecting me and Gale's image. _Cinna's a genius_, I think. Gale and I look mesmerizing, with the flames dancing across our faces and illuminating us, like burning embers of coal. The skillfully applied powder only adds to the effect, shimmering and highlighting our faces.

I'm stiff at first but I start to loosen up as I hear people chanting our names, having looked them up in their programs. Gale's name is being said slightly louder than mine, and I know that the Capitol women have already fallen in love with him. I gain confidence as the ride goes on and start waving and blowing kisses to the crowd, who reach out to catch them, as if they were the most precious thing in the world.

Groups of young women scream Gale's name as we pass by, throwing roses at him. Just to humor the crowd, he catches one and presses it gently to his lips and lazily lets go of it, and it rides the wind for a few feet before floating down into waiting hands.

We enter the City Circle, where more chanting and screaming and roses await us. The crowd loves us. They adore us. In the growing twilight the flames are even more striking, illuminating both me and Gale's faces and leaving trails of sparks behind us. My breath catches in my throat as I sneak a side glance at Gale. He looks even more striking than usual, with the flames accentuating his high cheekbones, and his gray eyes looking like endless pools. I feel my cheeks flush and I turn my attention to the crowd again.

All of the attention and music seep into my veins, and it's hard not to smile. My arm aches from waving and my hand is numb from gripping Gale's. I untangle my fingers from Gale's for just a moment to stretch my hand out, but I feel as if I might plummet towards the ground and immediately grab onto him again.

The chariot takes a full round of the City Circle before it arrives at President Snow's mansion. The national anthem begins to play as the president gives his customary welcome speech. The cameras are supposed to cut away to all of the tributes during the speech, but most of the cameras are trained on our chariot, although attempts are made to show everyone else.

The crowd will remember me and Gale. They won't forget my name or my look; they'll remember me just as Cinna said. The girl on fire.

With all of this attention I allow myself to hope that I will catch the eye of some people and gain at least a few sponsors. I already know Gale probably has tons of Capitol women lining up to donate money and supplies to him, and I hope that with enough sponsors and the right weapons, I can help Gale make it out of the arena.

I'm feeling more than slightly dizzy by the time we arrive at the Training Center, our 'home' until the Games start. I think I can still hear faint cries of me and Gale's names, but it might just be voices in my head now. Cinna, Portia, and the prep teams are waiting for us help Gale and I dismount from the chariot. They all gush about how amazing we were. I smile genuinely at all of them and thank Cinna, who smiles in return.

Some of the older girl tributes can't help sneaking peeks at Gale, while most of the other tributes shoot us dirty looks. We have stolen the spotlight today. All eyes were trained on us during the chariot ride, and the other tributes can't be too happy about that.

But I don't care at the moment because I'm intoxicated with all of the excitement and attention, and I can finally allow myself to truly believe that I can help get Gale out of the arena alive.

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><p><strong>Do you like? ;)<strong>

**Finally, some action. I think this is the longest chapter so far :D**

**Comment, review, criticize, people! :)**


	6. Chapter 6

**_Inferno_**

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><p><strong>Disclaimer: I am not Suzanne Collins and I don't own the Hunger Games.<strong>

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><p><strong><strong>Chapter 6<strong>**

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><p>"Wow," I breath, pressing my nose against the elevator's crystal walls. Gale is right beside me, looking equally awed. I glance back to see Effie giving us a small smile.<p>

As much as I don't like elevators, this one is different. The walls, floor, and ceiling are all made of crystal, so we have a 360 degree view of the first floor of the Training Center, and riding in it feels more like floating than plummeting into coal. Effie had explained to us that each district's tributes have their own floor for staying in until the Games, and since Gale and I are from District 12, our floor is at the very top.

Despite having to go up 12 floors, the elevator ride is brief. I want to ask Effie if we can ride it again, but I have a feeling that won't improve her opinion on Gale and I. Effie is supposed to stick with us all the way through until the Games, and I guess that's a good thing since Haymitch won't be much help, despite our deal. I haven't seen him since we got off of the train.

Effie seems to like both me and Gale, because of our _marvelous_ performance during the opening ceremonies and our big splash at the reaping. I wince when she brings up the reaping, because up until now I haven't given a second thought to all of those people who were shot during the reaping. I can tell Gale's thinking about the same thing because he tenses up beside me.

"I've been talking you guys up and trying to get you some sponsors. It wasn't that difficult, since everyone loved your opening ceremonies costumes and thought that it was just _heartbreaking_ how Katniss had to volunteer for her sister, not to mention Gale volunteering, which of course you know was a record for District 12. Two volunteers in one year," Effie says with a big, dreamy smile, "It also doesn't hurt that Gale here was born camera ready."

"Of course, Haymitch hasn't told me about your strategies, but I guess you can ask him about that tomorrow when we'll start coaching you," Effie says, her eyes half-closed in thought, "Unfortunately, I also can't seal your sponsorship deals, only Haymitch can do that. But I'll make sure it happens, even if I need to threaten him with a gun."

Although she may be from the Capitol and she may be stupid, Effie Trinket has determination. Now that she's done talking, I finally tear my gaze away from her face and instead look at our living quarters. It's absolutely idiotic how fancy and big our rooms are, and there's so many electronics in my room that it would take me months to figure out how to use them all. A quick glance in the bathroom tells me that the shower system is the same here as it was on the train, and I only hope I can figure out how to use it properly.

Effie leads Gale into his room and I go into mine, heading for the shower. This time, I think I recognize the button for warm water and press it, and to my relief the temperature of the water that comes rushing down on me is bearable. I cautiously press another button and immediately jerk back, not knowing what could rain down on me. To my relief, it's faintly scented soap, and I use it to rub all of the grime off of me and rinse myself off. I step back from the water when I'm done, waiting for it to turn off.

After the water turns off, a warm blast of air dries me off and instantly fixes my hair so that it falls around my head in a smooth curtain. I swiftly tie it into a braid and step out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around me. The closet in my room is also electronic, and I program it so it gives me a simple outfit. I then start experimenting with all of the different gadgets in the room (a device that gives you food with just a whisper, an automatic light that changes colors when you clap or snap, and a device at the window that lets me zoom into any part of the Capitol and see it in detail).

"Dinner!" Effie's voice rings through my room after what feels like hours. My stomach growls as I bend down to put on a pair of simple, short black boots. I exit my room and follow Effie to the dining room.

Cinna, Gale, and Portia are already seated together around a large table. I take a seat next to Gale and Effie sits on the other of side of me. We all make small talk, mostly discussing our extravagant costumes and praising Cinna and Portia for their genius idea. I smile and nod at everyone, just waiting for the food to be served so I can eat and get out of here.

"What are we waiting for?" I ask, just as Haymitch walks -not stumbles- into the room. I guess that he must have his own prep team because he's clean and smelling fresh, with not a trace of alcohol tainting his breath. He takes a seat next to Effie, who in turn grimaces and moves her chair slightly closer to mine.

Solemn-looking, silent servants all dressed in white bring us drinks and plates of steaming food. A thick soup with bitter greens and the tiniest tomatoes I've ever seen with steaming bowls of rice and chicken are placed in front of me. I devour the food hungrily, just like Gale, while everyone else takes small, polite bites of their meal. Haymitch is already on his second glass of wine.

Once everyone is finished with the appetizers and main course, another white-clothed servant girl brings a beautiful cake into the center of the table. She lights it up with a match and it burns for a few moments until the flames flicker away. I'm curious as to how it was able to ignite in flames and I tilt my head up to ask the girl, but I don't utter a single word because I recognize the girl.

At first, I'm not able to put a name or place on the girl. Red hair, sharp features, porcelain skin. "I-I know you," I stutter, frowning in concentration. I look over to Gale for help, to see if he recognizes her too. Gale looks equally perplexed, staring at the girl with his brows furrowed. The four adults seated around the table are staring intently at me.

"How could you know an Avox, sweetheart?" Haymitch asks me. "That's pretty much impossible."

"What's an Avox?" I ask, feeling stupid.

"Traitors. They've had their tongues cut off so they can't speak," Haymitch replies, eyeing me carefully.

"They're a disgrace," Effie adds, making a face. I suddenly recognize the girl and know exactly where I've seen her, but the looks Effie and Haymitch are so disapproving that I'm tongue tied and don't know what to say.

I glance back at Gale again, who's still studying the Avox, and recognition flashes across his face. He shoots me a look that says _I'll handle this. _"I know why she looks familiar," Gale says, sounding like he just made an important discovery, "She looks just like Junifer Asment, doesn't she Katniss?"

I feign relief and understanding. "Oh yeah. She has the same red hair and pale skin. I don't why I didn't see it before." I'm pretty sure there is no one in District 12 named Junifer Asment, and the only redheads in our district are Posy and a set of twins that are in their early twenties. Everyone buys Gale's fib, though, and the polite small talk resumes without another word on the subject.

The meal is wrapped up in a few minutes and we all move into a sitting room to watch the replays of the opening ceremonies. I temporarily forget about the Avox girl as I watch all of the tributes on the screen. I'm less focused on the costumes though, and instead I study each of the tributes. I make a mental note to avoid a monstrous looking boy from District 2 and a sleek, fox-faced girl from District 9. When District 11's chariot comes rolling in, I see a small, fragile looking girl who couldn't have been more than 13. Besides her dark hair and skin, she reminds me exactly of Prim and even though she may be weak, I know that I'll do whatever I can to protect her and help her, even though in the end I'll have to...

_No. _I don't allow myself to think that far ahead.

Thankfully, I'm distracted by the whoops that erupt out of everyone as Gale and I come onscreen. The effect we have is amazing. As soon as we made an appearance the crowd just got a hundred times rowdier and the cheering got louder.

"Do I see you two holding hands? Did someone tell you to do that or was it of your own accord?" Haymitch asks Gale and I with a smirk. I flush and Gale opens his mouth to speak, but Portia interrupts.

"It was Cinna's idea," she tells Haymitch.

"A nice touch of rebellion," he says, turning back to the screen to watch the last of the opening ceremonies. Rebellion? All we did was hold hands. But I see what Haymitch means after a moment of thinking. We have presented ourselves as friends instead of enemies, which is as unusual as our fiery costumes.

The screen goes black as the recording ends. "Meet me for breakfast tomorrow so we can discuss your strategy. Go get some sleep now. The grown-ups need to talk," Haymitch says, shooing Gale and I away.

Gale and I walk through the corridor silently. I want to talk to Gale about the Avox girl but I don't say anything for fear we'll be overheard by Haymitch or Effie, or even worse, the Capitol.

"Let's go up to the roof. Cinna showed it to me before dinner, and it has a nice view of the city. The wind's pretty loud, though," Gale says, leading me towards a set of stairs. _No one will hear us on the roof. _I manage to smile at Gale and follow him up the small staircase.

As promised, the city looks breathtaking from the rooftop and the noises block out any chance of someone overhearing us. Gale leads me towards a garden towards the back of the roof. I study all of the plants, fiddling with their leaves and petals. "Gale, that girl, w-we could've saved her," I whisper shakily.

"I know, Catnip, I know," he whispers back, his voice sounding every bit as guilty as mine.

Gale and I had been out hunting as usual, when we saw a boy and a girl with tattered clothes walking through the woods. The girl had striking red hair and pale skin, and features just like the Avox. The birds had all stopped singing suddenly, and Gale had led me under a shelf of rock to hide, since we both sensed danger. One minute the sky was empty, and the next a giant hovercraft had appeared. A net had dropped over the girl and carried her into the hovercraft, and the boy was speared through the ship and hauled up right after her. The girl screamed once, and then the hovercraft disappeared and the birds started singing again.

I make a game of trying to identify all of the plants while trying to shove down the guilt welling in my stomach. _Violets. Lilies._ I move away from the plants with a jolt when I come across a few pots brimming with evening primroses, the flower Prim has been named after.

Gale sees me looking at the roses and I know he recognizes them too, because then he asks, "How do you think they're doing? Our families?"

I'm suddenly angry at Gale again for volunteering. "Well, if you hadn't volunteered, at least someone would've been there to check on them."

"I know," Gale says, his eyes full of guilt.

"Remember that pact we made in the woods that day? That if one of us was reaped the other would stay and look after our families? You. Broke. That. Pact," I hiss, narrowing my eyes at Gale.

"I know, Catnip," he says simply, burying his face in his hands.

"You swore on your family's life that you wouldn't break that pact!" I yell. "That pact helped me get through every reaping because I thought that even if I did freaking die in the arena, you'd be there to keep Prim and the others alive! But no, you just go ahead and break it!" I rant.

"I know," Gale says miserably into his hands. I want to yell at him again but his voice is heavy with guilt and remorse and for some reason I feel the need to comfort him. _There's nothing you can do now, _I tell myself hopelessly_, __there's no point in yelling. Arguing won't keep Prim alive. _

He knows he made a rash decision, and now the consequences are catching up with him. "The baker's son came and visited me in the Justice Building," I say, "He told me he and his father would feed both of our families. As a thank you for saving him, I guess," I tell Gale.

"How can you be sure they'll keep their word?" Gale asks, looking up at me.

"The baker's a good man, you know that. He wouldn't lie," I say, and it's true. We could always expect a fair trade from the baker for some meat.

"Even if our families are fed, how are they going to deal with what they see on the screen? It's not like I'll be there to comfort either one of them. Posy's going to watch me _kill_! What will she think of me? The last impression she'll have of me is that I'm a monster!" Gale says frantically, his voice rising.

"It's okay, Gale," I start, not knowing what else to say.

"No, it's never going to be okay now. I don't even know why I'm taking all of this out on you. It's my own fault I was freaking stupid enough to volunteer," Gale says, his voice going back to normal. "It's just.. there's going to be so much pressure on Prim and Rory. They're the oldest ones in the house now. How are they going to deal with that?"

I'm silent for a few moments. I hadn't even thought of that. Delicate little Prim and Rory have all of the weight on their shoulders now. It's the very situation Gale and I have been trying to avoid for years now.

Gale's eyes suddenly widen as a new thought occurs to him. "What if Rory takes out tesserae?"

I don't have any words to comfort Gale with now. We both know perfectly well that Rory's the type of person to do exactly that, no matter how stupid it is. Instead, I walk over to Gale and sit beside him. He wraps his slightly shaking arms around me and holds me close to his chest, and I let myself relax as I breath in his always prevailing scent of oranges and pine. We sit like that for a long time, trying to forget our troubles.

However, Effie wanders onto the roof after a few minutes, ruining the moment. "We've been looking for you two everywhere," she says, raising an eyebrow at our current position. I blush, knowing what we must look like, and pull away from Gale. "You two'd better go get sleep." She pauses. "In your _own _rooms." My blush deepens and Gale and I stand up and follow Effie to our rooms.

I burrow into the giant, fluffy bed, and it feels strange to have so much space to myself. I curl myself into a tight ball, trying to warm myself. I might've stayed up all night talking with Gale if I had the chance, but after Effie's appearance I don't dare visit him again.

Eventually, I fall into a fitful sleep.

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><p><strong>Comment, reviews, ideas, criticism, anything I can improve, please let me know!<strong>


	7. Chapter 7

_**Inferno**_

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><p><strong>Disclaimer: I am not Suzanne Collins and I don't own the Hunger Games.<strong>

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><p><strong>Chapter 7<strong>

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><p>"Catnip?" Gale says, towering over me. He pokes my cheek with his finger and I sit up with a start, rubbing my eyes so that everything around me doesn't appear so blurry. When my vision is finally clear and there are no spots dancing before my eyes, I look at my surroundings in bewilderment. Vases, silk curtains, and a bouquet of mutated, unnaturally colored flowers on the table by my bed. I blink a few times, remembering where I am. I'm in the Training Center, essentially waiting for my death.<p>

Gale takes a few steps back from my bed when he sees I'm awake, and it seems like he's trying to avoid looking at me. "Effie left out clothes for you. Designed by Cinna. Haymitch is actually sober enough to have breakfast with us," he says, gesturing towards a dark green shirt and black leggings on a velvet chair.

I do a double take, looking from the clothes on the chair to Gale. Gale is already wearing a dark green shirt similar to mine with black pants. Gale rolls his eyes at the ceiling as if to say _I know, right?_, but I don't complain about our matching clothes and neither does Gale. After our spectacular showcasing last night, we have no right to criticize Cinna's fashion choices. Besides, I'm still determined to keep up our deal with Haymitch, and that includes doing whatever the stylists think is right. _Although_, I think, _Haymitch isn't doing too good of a job keeping up his end of the bargain. _

"Don't be late," Gale says, imitating Effie's silly accent and earning a smile from me. As soon as he exits the room, though, the smile turns into a frown as I realize there isn't much life in his words.

My stomach growling, I walk towards the room where we ate dinner last night. Only Haymitch and Gale are seated at the large table, with Haymitch picking at his food and quaffing some red, alcohol tainted drink, and Gale gorging on a plate loaded with food. I guess Effie and our stylists won't be joining us for breakfast today, probably because there's not really any advice they could offer us on a day like this. It's the first of three days of training and I doubt our stylists and Effie know about anything that would be useful in the arena. Haymitch, Gale, and I get to have a direct conversation, that will hopefully not involve any knife throwing.

I silently walk over to a long table towards the side filled with all different types of dishes. I load my plate with eggs, rolls, fruit and meat. I sit in the empty seat dividing Gale and Haymitch, which is apparently reserved for me. We all eat (or drink, in Haymitch's case) in an unsettling silence. Gale pushes his plate away from himself after a few minutes, and when I'm done stuffing my face, I do the same. Haymitch sets his half-full glass of alcohol-diluted juice. I notice that there seems to be no other alcohol on the table expect for the single glass Haymitch has just put down, and I'm impressed that he has managed not to get drunk.

"So, kids," Haymitch starts, clearing his throat, "I'm going to ask if you'd like to be trained together, but I'm guessing that's already a yes?" Haymitch looks between me and Gale. I've become somewhat accustomed to Haymitch's teasing, and I barely flush when I speak.

"Yeah," I say for both of us, since Gale doesn't make any move to talk.

"Well, sweetheart, tell me what you can do," Haymitch says, propping his feet up on the table. I glance over at Gale, who looks down at his plate, picking at the remaining food. Peas. Gale never liked peas, and even though we couldn't afford to be picky with what we ate, Gale refused to eat peas and always gave them to me when he encountered them in Greasy Sae's stews. There's something off about Gale's attitude. He looks angrier than usual, and there's something wrong with the way he's acting. Refusing to look at me, let alone meet my eyes. I don't like it, because it's not something I recognize, and I probably know Gale better than he knows himself.

When I don't answer immediately, Haymitch says, "There's no need to be shy, sweetheart. I already know you two are handy with a knife. What else?"

I think back to all of the days Gale and I spent in the woods. Hunting. Shooting and trapping food for our families to live off of.

"I can handle a bow and arrow," I say. Haymitch and I both simultaneously look to Gale for any feedback. Gale finally looks up at Haymitch, still not making eye contact at me.

"Katniss has killer aim," he says.

Annoyed that Gale still hasn't said anything for himself, I speak for him. "Gale's a genius with traps and snares."

"Katniss can shoot any animal clean through the eye," Gale retorts, still not looking at me.

"He's about as good as me at shooting," I say.

"She can climb trees quickly," Gale shoots back, stubbornly staring straight ahead. I want to slap him.

"He can lift weights almost double his size," I rebut with narrowed eyes.

"She's a fast runner."

"He's good in hand-to-hand combat."

"She can recognize any plant or herb there is."

"H-he-"

"Shut the hell up!" Haymitch yells, banging his now empty glass of 'juice' on the table for emphasis. "I get it. You're both fairly good with a bow and snares, and the boy can lift weights while sweetheart over here can climb trees and identify plants. Does that sum up your fairly pointless yelling?" Haymitch is the last person who should talk about what's pointless and what's not, but I nod in agreement.

"My name is Gale," Gale says coldly, his voice a dangerous tone between provoked and flat out infuriated. Haymitch must know that another stupid comment will lead to an argument, because he nods briefly.

"Okay. Now let's move on, shall we?" Gale still looks extremely ticked off and bunches the tablecloth in his fist, clenching and unclenching his hands.

"Neither of you are to show any significant skill with archery and traps during training, okay? Surprise the Gamemakers by showing them what you've got at the last minute, during your one on one sessions," Haymitch tells us. It makes enough sense to me. If we pretend to have only mediocre skills, we might shock the Gamemakers into giving us a higher training score, which in turn would attract more sponsors.

"Instead, learn a few new skills. Camouflage. Throwing spears. Tying knots. Got it?" Gale and I both nod tersely.

Haymitch taps an irregular rhythm on the table as he adds, "I want you two by each other's side every minute during training. Every minute. Although, I think that shouldn't be much of an issue, considering you two seem to favor each other's company already." Haymitch pauses. "Effie said she found you on the roof last night. Together. How sweet," Haymitch smirks.

As I blink and open my eyes again, a jolt runs through my body. Gale has somehow pinned Haymitch's arms behind his chair in a matter of seconds. Haymitch's gray Seam eyes, so similar to my own, look startled for a moment, but he quickly regains his composure.

"Let go, boy. No need to be so sensitive," Haymitch says, in his signature tone of voice that always has a hint of sarcasm. I know how Gale's going to react as soon as the words leave Haymitch's mouth.

"It's Gale," Gale hisses, tightening his grip on Haymitch's arms, "Gale."

"Okay, Gale. Let go of me," Haymitch says, seeming rather bored.

"Take back what you said," Gale replies.

"Is that all it'll take to make you happy? If I take back my completely true statement about you and your girlfriend?" Haymitch asks, a smirk evident in his voice. I want to punch him myself, but instead I stay glued to my seat, shifting my gaze between Haymitch and Gale. This time, I don't even blush at Haymitch's stupid teasing. Gale's face flushes with anger and he throws down Haymitch's arms with so much force that his chair lurches forward. Haymitch grimaces. The back of the chair had dug into his armpits. _Good,_ I think, _The old drunk deserved it._

Gale stalks off, barely making any noise in that eerie way of his as he walks away. After a few moments, I hear Gale slam his door loudly, making sure Haymitch hears it.

I stand up and make to go towards the exit when Haymitch says, "Well, sweetheart. Your boyfriend seems to have temper problems." I turn around on my heels and walk quickly towards Haymitch, promptly slapping him across his right cheek with all of the force I have. Haymitch goes rigid with pure shock for a second, and then relaxes into his chair. I don't know where I got the idea, let alone the courage, to do what I just did. Haymitch doesn't look too angry, though.

"Guess I deserved that," he mumbles.

There's a million things I want to say in response to that, but instead I settle on, "You did."

Then I exit the dining car, with Haymitch's voice ringing after me. "Meet Effie at the elevator around ten for training!"

It's a good thing he doesn't make any more comments about me and Gale, because I swear I would've killed him on the spot if he did.

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><p>I gingerly open the door to Gale's room, cautiously stepping in. Gale's sitting in a fancy chair in front of a window overlooking the Capitol. I can see his reflection in the glass from where I'm standing. His expression is blank, and he's not looking at anything in particular.<p>

"Gale?" I say softly. Gale's head snaps around.

"Catnip," he greets, turning back to the window.

"What's wrong?" I ask, inching closer and closer until I'm standing by his side, one hand on the chair's armrest.

"Nothing, Catnip," he replies dully, averting his gaze.

"What's wrong, Gale?" I ask again insistently.

"I said there's nothing wrong, Katniss, okay?" he replies, his voice hardening.

Without thinking, I press one hand on either side of his face and turn his head so that he's facing me. Now that he finally meets my gaze, I know what he's been trying to hide. There's rage buried in his emotion-clouded gray eyes, along with...remorse. I've never seen remorse written so plainly across Gale's expression like this. Sure, I've seen him guilty several times. Sometimes when he accidentally yells at his siblings, when he launches a bad shot at an animal, thus making the animal's death more painful, after an argument with his mother, or that one time he took a dig at Madge. But never like this.

"Gale, I told you it'll be alright. D-don't hate yourself," I tell him, dropping my hands from his face. I flush as I realize exactly what I was just doing.

"How can't I not hate myself, Catnip?" Gale asks angrily, but this time the anger isn't directed at the Capitol. It's directed at himself. And it hurts me.

"We can't do anything about it now. Just hope that the baker's keeping his word and that our families aren't too...affected by what they see." My mind then wanders to the opening ceremonies last night. Did our appearance make them breath a sigh of relief? Did our costumes give them hope that just maybe one of us will get enough sponsors to live? Or did our appearance just signal another step to them, another day closer to our death? I can't even promise myself that I'll be able to make it back for Prim. It's hard to think like that when your best friend's going into the arena with you.

"We wouldn't be in this whole freaking situation if I had just stayed home," Gale mumbles, putting his face in his hands.

"Our families would want us to be strong, right? If we seem angry or upset on TV, that'll only bother them more. Gale, please," I say as Gale only shakes his head slowly. There's a few moments of silence as Gale seems to think about something.

"You know the weirdest thing, Catnip?" he asks, lifting his head up. I wait for him to go on. "I think that even if I could go back in time to the reaping and change what happened, I would still volunteer. I mean, I would try to reassure my family more and make up some story for Posy to believe in while I'm gone, but I'd still volunteer. At least this way I can make sure that you get back home safe and sound."

"No," I say immediately, "Don't go there, Gale."

It's too depressing to think of the possibility that it could come down to me and Gale in the arena. I couldn't live with myself if I went home without him. _I'll kill myself when it comes down to the two of us_, I decide, _because someone has to go home and it can't be me._ Gale would find another best friend to replace me for sure, even a wife, with all of the girls swarming him when he returns. Maybe I could send a little note with him for Prim, to tell her good-bye. I know that he'd take care of my family. Even though I want to believe that I can carry out my plan, there's still a part of me that wants to live. Aren't we all selfish like that? We want to live. Such a simple desire, to live, but the Capitol even makes that difficult for us.

"No, Katniss," Gale says, gently putting his hands on my face and turning it towards him. "You will go home to Prim. _You will go home_," Gale says it with such conviction and hardness that I know he's going try his best to send me back to District 12 as victor.

"Whatever makes you happy, Gale," I say, making sure he catches the sarcasm in my voice.

Gale then leans in dangerously closer, so slowly that I doubt he even realizes what he's doing. His hot breath fans over my face and I shudder involuntarily as a chill runs down my spine. I find myself suddenly short of breath and paralyzed.

"Gale?" I gasp, my heart thudding in my chest. Gale seems to snap out of his daze and pulls back quickly, sheepishly raking his hand through his already tousled black hair. I decide to pretend that the previous moment never happened.

"I-I'll go, then. We need to m-meet Effie around ten for training," I say, and I'm ashamed to find myself still trying to steady my breathing and make my racing pulse go back to normal.

Gale nods, avoiding looking at me again, although this time the reason for his actions is completely different. I slip out of the room quickly, still bewildered.

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><p><strong>A slightly shorter chapter, but I'll be updating at least one more time in the next few days. I have a four day break :)<strong>


	8. Chapter 8

_**Inferno**_

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><p><strong>Disclaimer: I am not Suzanne Collins and I don't own the Hunger Games.<strong>

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><p><strong>Chapter 8<strong>

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><p>I have just enough time to smooth out my hair, clean my teeth, and attempt to tame my jittery nerves before Effie's accented voice fills my room. "Katniss! We're running late, darling. Hurry up, now."<p>

Stepping out into the corridor, I see that Gale has already been collected by Effie, and he stands by her, looking irritated as she rambles on about who-knows-what. I can't bring myself to look at Gale, considering what happened just a few minutes ago.

When Effie spots me coming out of my room, she runs over to me in her sky-high heels, a feat that I have to admit I'm impressed by. "Come on! It's almost 9:50!" she exclaims, grabbing my arm and pulling me alongside her. I glance back at Gale, who's fighting a smile. I scowl at him.

We all step into the glass-walled elevator again, and Effie presses one of the many buttons to the right of us. Although the training rooms are below ground-level, the ride is short, and my fear of the elevator has long since dissipated.

Even though we still have a good ten minutes before we're actually supposed to have arrived, I see that we're the last ones to arrive and all of the tributes look up at us, their expressions a mix of annoyance and anger. Someone pins a piece of fabric with _12_ written on it onto my back, and I quickly look around at the group of tributes in the room. Gale and I are the only ones dressed like each other.

A woman named Atala reads instructions off of a sheet of paper. There are different stations set up, and we are free to go anywhere we like, unless there's something specific our mentors want us to do. If we want to practice with a partner, we have to do so with an assistant, because fighting another tribute is forbidden. I glance back at Gale as Atala says this part, but Gale's looking straight ahead.

My mind starts to wander towards the middle of Atala's instructions and rules, and my gaze flits to each of the tributes. While Gale might be able to take on some of the bigger tributes, I'm small compared to a lot of them, although I can tell that I'm probably healthier than most of them, thanks to the meat and plants from the woods, along with all of the exercise of hunting.

The only real advantages Gale and I have over the tributes is Cinna's designing, which has hopefully raked in a decent amount of sponsors, Gale's looks, as stupid as that seems, and the fact that both of us are District 12 volunteers, the first in decades. But none of that will matter in the arena.

"Where do we go first, Catnip?" Gale asks me, suddenly appearing by my side and startling me out of my thoughts. It's as if the incident in his room never happened, and I gladly go along with this line of thinking.

"How about there?" I say, pointing in the direction of a random station. Plants and herbs.

Gale nods and grabs my hand as we both walk towards the man situated at the plants and herbs station. His face brightens up a little as we approach him; obviously this station isn't exactly a hot spot for the tributes. I can already see that most of the Careers- volunteers from Districts 1, 2, and 4- are sizing each other up at the weight lifting station and hand-to-hand combat.

I ace the test that the man gives us while Gale struggles through it, his eyebrows furrowing together every so often as he tries to remember what a certain herb is called and whether or not it's poisonous. When the man has explained to us how to identify edible plants and berries and has told us which plants are good for healing, Gale and I thank him as we move onto the next station.

"Let's go to hand-to-hand combat," Gale says, after looking over all of his choices. I eye the Careers gathered over there nervously.

"What about camouflage?" I ask, "Then we can go there." Gale looks like he wants to argue, but he relents.

"Fine," he says, and we both go over to the camouflage station. I feign interest as the woman explains how to use different berry juices and mud and leaves to conceal yourself, but in reality I'd much rather be at the hand-to-hand combat station myself, just not when the Careers are around.

After the we're done with camouflage, Gale drags me over to the combat station, apparently bored by everything we've done so far. The trainer at the station hands both me and Gale a spear, and then sets us up in front of two dummies. He explains a few basic moves to us and demonstrates. After a while, Gale seems to become more and more comfortable with the weapon in his hands, while I find myself longing for my father's bow.

An hour passes and the trainer finally decides that the skills I've built up are sufficient enough, but he seems especially pleased with Gale's results, and tells us to stop by again later, if we like. I smile and nod at him, but I shoot a look at Gale that says this is the last place we will come back to.

The next day passes by in the same fashion, and we get around to about three-quarters all of the stations, whether it's handling a knife or how to keep yourself warm at night. All of the tributes are served lunch together in a large cafeteria right outside of the Training Center, and Gale has managed not to completely lose his temper at anyone, although there has been quite a lot of cursing at people in response to stabs in our direction from the Careers.

On the third day, Gale and I make it our goal to get around to each and every station. Gale and I are still dressed as twins, and today's outfit consists of a plainly embroidered, thigh-length shirt and slim pants. We pick up a few more skills (figuring out your location using nature and preparing meals from tree bark and roots), and we manage to avoid archery and traps until the very end. Having visited every station and not wanting to repeat something, Gale and I decide to drop by the forbidden stations, but we agree to play down our skills drastically.

At archery, Gale and I shoot arrows into stuffed dummies, with red circles painted on their faces, eyes, and hearts. I always launch my arrow a good two inches away from the target, but even doing that, my aim is still impressive to the instructor, whose eyes light up as he gives me pointers on how to improve further. Gale, meanwhile, consistently shoots three inches off each target.

Gale eventually grows bored of archery and looks at the traps and knots station every few minutes out of the corner of his eye. Stifling a smile, I replace my bow and thank the instructor, and Gale lights up just a bit as he replaces his own bow and walks towards our next destination.

I struggle with the ropes and knots, not having any skills with snares significant enough that I have to conceal them. Gale, on the other hand, seems to be enjoying himself, purposely tying knots a bit loose and tightening some more than necessary.

The instructor at this station is a blue-haired, young guy; he can't be much older than Gale. He has a permanent smugness about him that I'd like to see if I can slap off. The instructor looks intently at Gale as he assembles a particularly difficult knot. Gale doesn't seem to notice, however, and goes on with his task, lost in his own little world. I shift my gaze back to my own knot, which I can already tell is going to come out badly, no matter how hard I try.

Gale finally finishes his knot, and pushes it towards our instructor for the verdict. The instructor picks it up carefully, and stares at the knot for a few moments.

"A little tight in some places, and this last loop over here is a little loose, but good job," he says.

Gale nods once in response. I'm just about to grab his arm and drag him away from the station, because the other tributes are starting to file out of the Training Center and into the cafeteria for lunch, but I'm not able to carry out my actions because the instructor speaks up.

"So, you're from District 12, right?" he asks, addressing both me and Gale.

Gale points at the fabric 12 pinned to his back. "Last time I checked, yeah."

"You've actually got talent, District 12," the instructor says, sounding friendly enough. Gale apparently thinks the same thing because he gives a little nod in thanks. "Hard to believe you actually came from that dirty district full of coal miners," he continues recklessly.

This strikes a nerve with Gale. "What?" he asks. His voice is even, but having been his best friend for years I can detect the subtle undertone of anger in it.

"Oh, come on. I know it's your district and all, but almost every kid from District 12 that's went into the Games so far was stick-thin, and didn't have the slightest idea how to survive in the arena," the instructor continues, seemingly unaware of the effect his words have on Gale, but considering the look of arrogance on his face earlier, I get the idea he's provoking Gale on purpose. "You two, however, look like you could actually survive."

"Oh really?" Gale asks, his voice containing the slightest trace of anger

"I think we should go now," I say, looking from the blue-haired guy to Gale. I tug on Gale's arm, but he pretends not to notice.

"Just so you know, two of those 'dirty coal miners' were my father and her father," Gale says with venom, gritting his teeth and gesturing towards me.

"I never would've guessed," the instructor says, and whistles, long and low. "Didn't know they made them that way in District 12," he says, jerking his head towards me, "Pretty one, aren't you?" He has the nerve to reach out and try to touch my cheek, but Gale slaps his hand away.

"Don't touch her," Gale practically growls, his voice low and dangerous, and in that one moment I'm terrified of what Gale Hawthorne might do next.

The instructor puts his hands out in front of him in mock surrender. "I'm sorry," he says in an artificially sweet voice.

Gale tenses beside me, and he makes the slightest move to punch the instructor, but I put a hand on his arm, my eyes widening. Our gazes meet and he drops his eyes, pulling his arm roughly away from me. His jaw twitches as he grits his teeth, but there's no sign he'll actually do something reckless. The instructor looks between us, sensing that we somehow communicated with each other without talking.

"Oh, I get it now. You're sweethearts, aren't you? It would explain your whole matching outfits scheme," he says finally, his voice still containing that syrupy sweetness. For a moment, I resent Cinna's idea to dress me and Gale alike. Is that really the message we're getting across to others? That we're lovers or something? Or maybe it's just the instructor's view.

By now, a small number of the Careers have gathered at the door to see why me and Gale are late.

"Sweethearts?" I ask, partially confused and partially horrified. I can't hear the word 'sweetheart' now without imagining Haymitch saying it in his drunken drawl.

"Yeah, you're sweeetheaaarts," he says with a smirk, drawing out the word until it sounds ugly.

Gale sets his jaw, his eyes full of cold anger. "No, we're not sweeetheaaarts," he says mockingly, "We're just two tributes from District 12, aren't we?"

The instructor gives a little shrug. "If you're not sweethearts now, then you will be soon. Which is unfortunate, because District 12 rats never win the Games."

"Go to hell," Gale spits at him, his voice full of venom. "Come on, Catnip, let's go," Gale says, tugging roughly on my arm. The nickname slips out his mouth out of habit.

The instructor snorts. "Catnip?" A few snickers can be heard from where the Careers are standing as well. "See, you even have a nickname for her. And yet you insist you're just another pair of tributes."

Gale's fist barely misses the instructor's head as the instructor swiftly ducks down and dodges it. I grab Gale's arm and pull him roughly. "You know you can get in trouble. Just don't, Gale," I hiss.

The Careers gathered at the door take in the whole scene with greedy, calculating eyes. As Gale and I walk past them and into the cafeteria, I don't miss the not-so-careful whispers.

"Catnip of all things? How cute."

"Katniss does sound like Catnip."

"The District 12 rats are love birds?"

"Sounds about right."

"It explains their matching costumes and outfits."

_That stupid instructor, _I think, _this incident's going to have made it around all of the tributes before the interviews. _

The urge to yell at them all is overwhelming, but I clench my hands into fists and suppress myself.

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><p><strong>(AN)**

**I significantly altered this chapter's end because I thought the original chapter was OOC for Gale.**

**Hope you like this ending as well! **


	9. Chapter 9

_**Inferno**_

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><p><strong>Disclaimer: I am not Suzanne Collins and I don't own the Hunger Games.<strong>

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><p><strong>Chapter 9<strong>

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><p><strong>IMPORTANT: Please reread the second half of the last chapter, starting with the argument with the instructor. I made some major changes because I didn't like where I was taking the story. I repeat, please reread it before reading this one!<strong>

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><p>Gale and I eat lunch silently, sitting side-by-side, but today, unlike the other two days, we have an extra person at our table.<p>

It's a little girl from District 11, about the same size as Prim and with similar, delicate features. You can tell she's only twelve years old with one glance at her young, innocent face and petite body. She had approached our table shyly only a few minutes ago, because all of the other tables were full of either tributes or mentors; the latter having gathered to give any last minute advice before we get our personal training sessions. I just gave her a little smile and told her she was welcome to sit with us. The more I study her, the more my heart aches for this girl. Maybe she girl has a sister she loves back in District 11 that she was ripped away from, or a brother, or her parents. No matter how weak she is or how much dangerously attached I might grow to this little girl, I know I'll do my best to protect her in the arena.

When the majority of the tributes are finished eating, there's a call for a last minute meeting with our mentors, so they can dish out any final tips before the private sessions. As Haymitch starts to stagger towards us, the girl gets up and waves at me and Gale hesitantly before making her way to her own mentor, a woman that looks double Haymitch's age. District 11 doesn't have many victors either.

"Her name's Rue," Gale says, bringing me out of my thoughts.

"Huh?"

"The little girl, her name's Rue. I heard her talking to her mentor yesterday," Gale repeats, tilting his head to look at me.

I know that he can see right through me, and he knows that I want to be allies with Rue. He gives a little sigh in response, and at that moment a shadow appears on our table as Haymitch finally manages to reach us.

"What's this I hear about you and sweetheart?" Haymitch asks Gale, his voice reasonably steady and clear of alcohol. Only about ten minutes and word of the instructor incident has already reached Haymitch.

"Nothing," Gale says nonchalantly, shoveling another forkful of rice into his mouth. "I just had a small disagreement with an instructor, and the Careers just blew the whole thing out of proportion. Everyone's just overreacting."

"You two'd better listen," Haymitch says, leaning in towards us until he's at our eye level. "In the Capitol, it doesn't matter what actually happened. What matters is what everyone thinks happened. So if the Careers say that they think you're little love birds or whatever, everyone else thinks you're little love birds, because the Careers have power over this stupid gossip and no one's going to put up with your denial."

"Too bad for them," Gale says drily, fighting to keep his voice low, "Because we are not damned love birds or whatever the hell the Careers are saying."

I can only manage to nod in agreement with Gale.

Haymitch rakes his hand through his graying hair, which is relatively clean thanks to his prep team. "Whatever ," he says, dismissing the whole thing with a wave, "We'll have a talk about it later. Just don't do anything else to bring unwanted attention from the Careers, okay?"

Gale and I both nod in unison.

"You both know your strategies for the one-on-one sessions, so you won't need any help from me on that matter. Sweetheart shoots some stuff, and the boy ties a few fancy snares. Now excuse me while I go get some more alcohol," Haymitch says, maving a move to leave.

"Wait," Gale says, his eyes suddenly lit up with both parts excitement and nervousness. The same look he gets when he has a new idea. "Do the Gamemakers have any children?"

Haymitch frowns. "Why?"

"Just curious," Gale says casually. I eye him warily, wondering what plan's swirling around in his mind.

Haymitch thinks for a moment, obviously in a hurry to get back to his alcohol. "There's three that I know about. Seneca Crane's girl's name is Alyeska, and another one of the top Gamemakers has twins. Rayn and Hesta."

Gale nods thoughtfully, and Haymitch takes that as his cue to leave. He sets off towards his table, stopping only to ask an Avox to fetch a bottle of who-knows-what for him.

I turn towards Gale. "What are you thinking?"

"Nothing," he says evasively, jamming another bite of rice into his mouth. I glare at him, silently urging him to tell me whatever he's thinking about. He can obviously feel my gaze on him, but he decides to ignore it.

"Just don't do something stupid," I say after a few minutes of silence, knowing that if Gale hasn't told me by now he won't be telling me anytime soon.

He doesn't answer.

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><p>All of the tributes are called up for their private sessions in the order of their district numbers, so as usual, District 12 is last. Everyone is silent except for when the next person is called, and even then only soft footsteps are the ones to break the nervous silence. After the sessions, I assume, everyone goes up to their assigned floors after finishing, since no one comes back afterwards.<p>

Gale and I are careful not to make any conversation, since the Careers are probably keeping an eye on us now. We sit just like all of the others, quiet and seemingly alien to each other, but after Rue is called up, the room is empty and it doesn't matter now.

"I'm nervous," I say, stating the obvious. I was never really good with words.

"You'll do fine, Catnip," Gale reassures me, and although there's no need to speak because we've always been better at communicating without talking, we try to talk anyway in an attempt to burn off some of our nervous energy.

"I hope so," I reply, and at that moment someone calls up Gale for his turn.

"Good luck," I whisper just as he's leaving and brush my hand against his. He nods in return.

I'm left alone, and I try not to think too much, because if I think I'll be thinking about all of the possible ways this could go wrong, which won't help my nerves. I strain to hear any noises from the training room to get an idea of what Gale's doing, but the walls are sound-proofed and I give up after a few moments.

After what can only be a few minutes, I am finally called up for my session and I get up quickly, almost running into the room.

There are all sorts of weapons and dummies set up, and everything is perfectly in place, giving no hint as to what the other tributes might have used. I skim my eyes over all of the assorted bows and arrows, finally selecting a silver one that's about the same size I use back at home, and I take the matching quiver of arrows.

My first few shots at the dummies are a little off. This bow is strung more tightly than my own bow, but after a bit of practice my aim is up to its usual standard. The Gamemakers, however, barely even notice me, because they all look a bit shaken and angry at the same time and everyone is crowed around two men. They're all talking rapidly in their Capitol accents, stuffing food into their mouths in between words.

I frown, shooting a few more arrows straight into the dummies' hearts and making a lot more noise than necessary to get their attention. When it doesn't work, I send an arrow flying at a light fixture, and a shower of sparks rains down at the contact. A few Gamemakers glance up at me, looking only annoyed, and go right back to their very important conversation.

I can feel my cheeks heat up as I suddenly get angry. I quickly prepare to shoot another arrow, this time aiming for one of the Gamemakers' fancy headpieces. The arrow zips through the air, piercing through the fancy headpiece and sending fake gems and glitter flying everywhere. The owner of the headpiece shrieks as it's pinned to the wall.

I think I hear someone mutter, "So they're both trouble makers, aren't they?"

I give the words no thought though and instead bow deeply and march out of the room. "Thank you for your consideration," I say, striding towards the exit.

I make a beeline for the elevator, ignoring the stares and whispers that are directed at me. The elevator opens, allowing me to enter, and I jab the button that reads twelve, tapping my foot impatiently as the elevator slowly ascends.

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><p>When I arrive at the sitting room, Cinna, Haymitch, Gale, Portia, and Effie are all gathered there. The adults are all engaged in deep conversation, with Gale sitting off to the side with a stony expression.<p>

"Ah, sweetheart," Haymitch says, noticing me, and everyone looks up at my arrival. "We were just discussing the boy's training session," he adds, gesturing towards Gale.

"What did he do?" I ask curiously, and Haymitch's expression hardens.

"Let's discuss your session first, shall we? Then we'll fill you in on the boy's," Haymitch replies. I don't really see why the order matters and shrug, some of the heat leaving my cheeks, and I suddenly realize just how stupid my actions were. What if the Gamemakers punish for doing something so rash? Or worse, my family? I bet I'll get a score of no more than 2, scaring away sponsors I might've had.

Everyone's looking at me intently, so I reluctantly decide to tell them. They'll find out sooner or later. "I shot a few arrows," I say vaguely.

"Please, spare us all of the details," Haymitch says with an eye roll, "The whole story, sweetheart."

"Well, I shot a few arrows, but the Gamemakers wouldn't look at me, so I pinned one of the Gamemaker's headpieces to the wall," I say quickly, watching the others for their reactions.

There's a collective groan and Haymitch slams the table. "Shut up! We need to think."

"Is it really that bad?" I ask, panic rising.

"No," Haymitch says seriously, "It's not."

"Will they do anything to me?" I ask, not convinced at all.

"Probably not. They won't hurt your sister or your mother, that's for sure. And they can't kill you off, either, because the Capitol won't want to replace you at this point. Others have done worse," Haymitch shoots a glare at Gale at this, and Gale looks away.

"So I'm okay?" I ask cautiously, looking around at everyone. Haymitch nods.

"Can't say the same for the boy here, though," he says.

"What did he do?" I ask, my mind racing.

"Why don't you tell her yourself," Haymitch says bitterly, looking at Gale.

Gale tilts his head up to meet my gaze. His gray eyes are clouded with a number of emotions. "I wrote the names of the Gamemakers' kids on dummies and hung them."

There's complete silence as his words sink themselves into me. I can feel my eyes widening and my mouth hangs open.

"Isn't he a genius?" Haymitch remarks with a bark of laughter, drowning the words with a gulp of wine. I close my eyes and slowly count to ten. Cinna, Portia, and Effie have all been quiet the whole time, but now they all speak up at once.

"He'll probably be punished."

"The Gamemakers are definitely furious."

"It could be considered an act of rebellion," Cinna says thoughtfully in his soft voice.

"Which is not good. The Capitol does not like rebellion," Effie adds helpfully. I sit down on the couch next to Gale, not saying anything. What I did is nothing compared to Gale's actions. No wonder the Gamemakers looked so ticked off.

Insistent chatter starts up again, but this time it's Cinna who shushes us all. "No use speculating. We'll all find out after dinner when the scores are announced. Let's just hope for the best until then."

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><p><strong>(AN)**

**What did you think? Do you like where it's going? Any suggestions or things I should avoid doing? **


	10. Chapter 10

_**Inferno**_

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><p><strong>Disclaimer: I am not Suzanne Collins and I don't own the Hunger Games.<strong>

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><p><strong>Chapter 10<strong>

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><p>"Are you insane?" I ask Gale slowly, glaring at him.<p>

"Not any more than the Capitol," he answers stubbornly. Everyone is quiet, silently observing our exchange.

"But the Capitol has control of your life right now, Gale Hawthorne," I hiss at him, "Does that mean anything to you? They can take you and kill you anytime they like."

My voice starts rising, and the others take that as their cue to leave. Effie makes an excuse about tending to her hair, Haymitch goes off to find more alcohol, and both of the stylists say that they have to work on new design. Good. At least we don't have an audience.

"Don't be stupid, Catnip," he replies, "It'll be a pain for them to replace me at this point, won't it?"

"They'll make your life in the arena a living hell," I say through gritted teeth.

"Then I'll only be harming myself," Gale says easily.

"I hate the way you just brush it off, Gale! What about your family? Think about it!" I yell at him. A grim look passes over his features.

"You'll survive and take care of them for me, then. You will do that, won't you?" he says.

"You'll be harming me, Gale!" The words slip out of my mouth without thinking. "If-if you don't survive, and I do, I'll never be the same, and you know it."

"You're strong, Katniss, you-"

"That's the problem, Gale. You're tremendously overestimating my strength. I'm. Not. That. Strong," I say, making sure my point gets across.

"You have Prim, Katniss!" he says, suddenly yelling, "Or have you forgotten that, too?"

The mention of Prim makes me go cold. How can I leave my little sister, my sweet little Primrose?

"See? We both have things we'll be leaving behind, Catnip, but one of us has to die. There's no use dancing around it," Gale says softly.

"Then I'll be the one who dies. Why are you hell bent on making that person you?" I ask angrily.

"Why do you think I volunteered?" Gale asks in a low voice.

"I-I don't know." It hadn't yet occurred to me to ask him.

"To protect you, because I-" he pauses, seeming as if he just caught himself from saying something else. "Because I can't bear to let you go through this alone."

"You shouldn't have," I say weakly. Gale scoots over a bit and reaches out to wrap his arms around me.

"Stop, Catnip. I don't want to fight during the last few guaranteed days we have together," he says, his voice muffled by my hair. His face rests in the crook of my neck, his soft breath tickling me.

I give in and rest my head on his chest. We curl together, creating our own little nook. I vaguely wonder if what Gale said is really the only reason he broke our sacred pact and volunteered to take Peeta's place. But that line of thought only leads to things I'd rather not think about, things that would change our relationship, so I banish all thoughts from my mind and only focus on our mingled breathing.

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><p>There's a sharp jab in between my shoulder blades. "Sorry to interrupt your little moment, but dinner's ready," someone slurs. I groan and shift, only to find that I'm stuck in place. I wriggle a bit more, and then I realize I probably fell asleep in Gale's arm. I blush , suddenly alert, and gently shake Gale to wake him up.<p>

He frowns in his sleep, making him look twelve years old instead of eighteen, and I stifle a laugh. "Come on, Gale. Dinner's ready." I freeze up for a moment, remembering what comes after dinner. Our training scores.

"Dinner?" he asks drowsily, his eyes fluttering open. I let out a soft chuckle.

"Yeah, come on already," I say, untangling myself from his embrace. My neck feels a bit stiff, and I try rolling it around a bit.

Gale gets up off of the couch, and I suddenly notice Haymitch watching us. He looks at us intensely; or rather, as intense as you can get when you're drunk, and takes another swig from his bottle. "Let's go."

We follow him to the dining room.

Tonight, dinner is a silent affair, minus the clattering of dishes and utensils. I realize that all of these people - Cinna, Effie, Portia, and Haymitch- actually care enough about me and Gale to worry about what our training scores will be. It gives me a strange sense of fulfillment, knowing that they actually haven't given up on us already.

"The scores will be broadcasted any minute. Maybe we should skip dessert. All it does is make you fatter, anyway," Effie says, glancing at the delicate silver watch on her wrist.

Everyone nods in silent agreement, leaving the dishes for the Avoxes to clean.

We all head back into the sitting room, and Haymitch turns off the lights before sitting down. I take a seat next to Gale, sitting up completely straight. His hand fumbles around in the darkness, searching for mine. I somewhat reluctantly lace my fingers with his, holding on tight. We all wait patiently for a few minutes, and the giant TV automatically turns on, scaring me half to death.

Caesar Flickerman's easy voice fills the room, announcing that it is time for the scores to be revealed. I wonder how Prim and Gale's family will react when they see that we got incredibly low scores.

Most of the Careers score an eight to ten, while the other tributes score an average of six, with the lowest being four. Surprisingly, Rue earns a seven. She must've really impressed the Gamemakers, since she's so small. It's finally time for District 12, and I desperately hope Gale gets at least a four.

Gale's grip on my hand tightens as Caesar announces, "And Gale Hawthorne's score is...," he trails off, looking behind at the screen where the scores are being flashed.

_12._

"A twelve?" Effie gasps from somewhere off to my right. I stare at the screen in pure shock, making sure that I didn't read the score wrong. Gale's hand goes limp. I don't whether I should scream or cry or congratulate him. Everyone is dead silent, and it's only when my score comes up that everyone starts talking.

_11. _

"This is not good," Haymitch mumbles next to Gale.

"Why not?" I ask, regretting my words when everyone but Gale and Effie turn to look at me in disbelief.

"Don't you see what they're doing?" Haymitch asks, his signature smirk gone.

"What?" Gale asks.

"Sure, a good score's going to get you sponsors, but now you might as well have a giant bull's eyes painted on your faces," he replies.

"They're making you a target," Cinna says.

"The Careers are all going to be after you," Haymitch adds.

"Thanks for the encouragement," Gale snaps sarcastically, and Haymitch blows up.

"This isn't funny, boy! If you hadn't pulled that stunt with the dummies, this wouldn't have happened! We're only warning you, but if you want live in your little fantasy world, then go ahead," he fumes.

Gale tenses, and I know that he'd like to say some not-so-kind things back, but he stops himself and leans back on the couch.

"What are we going to do with you?" Haymitch asks no one in particular, and promptly walks out of the room, bottle in hand.

Cinna and Portia stand up. "We should get back to our rooms," Cinna says. He comes closer and leans down to whisper, "It's okay, Girl on Fire. We'll help you two get through it. Don't worry yourself too much." Only those few sentences from Cinna make me feel better than Haymitch would in a century.

Once Cinna and Portia clear out, only Effie is remaining, and she gets up awkwardly, definitely not expecting to be left alone with me and Gale. "You know, I don't think the Capitol should ignore you just because you're from District 12." She looks around nervously, as if expecting someone to laugh at her. "I think that your scores mean you'll finally get noticed. I see it as a good thing." She rushes out before I can reply.

I stand up slowly, holding out a hand for Gale. "That was interesting, wasn't it?" I ask.

Gale takes my hand and pulls himself up. When he's standing up straight, I have to tilt my head up to look at his face. "It was, Catnip. It was."

* * *

><p>I change out of my training clothes and wear a pair of silky pajamas, that are admittedly lavish, but comfortable. Along with the giant bed and soft mattress with matching pillows, I should be able to fall asleep. I try and fail many times to trick myself into sleeping, by counting silently in my head and daydreaming about home. But all I can think about is Gale's perfect score and my near-perfect score, and how much they can harm us in the arena.<p>

Still wide awake, I roll over onto my side so that I can see the clock sitting by my bed. _1:06 AM. _I went to bed at around eleven. Sighing, I shift back over, facing the right side of the room. Just as I'm finally about to drift off to sleep, I hear the door crack open. My eyes suddenly snap open, and I strain to hear any sounds. Someone then touches my shoulder and I jump a little, but immediately relax, knowing exactly who it is. There's only one person with footsteps that quiet.

"Hey, Catnip," Gale whispers, standing cautiously at the side of my bed. "Were you sleeping?"

"No, not really," I reply, sitting up. I cross my legs and pat the spot beside me. "Sit down."

Gale takes a seat on my bed, wearing the same type of silky pajamas as me.

"These pajamas are ridiculous," Gale says, touching the hem of his shirt, and we both laugh.

"I can't help thinking about our scores," I say softly.

"Don't worry, Catnip," Gale says, "I won't let anything get you."

I roll my eyes and laugh, playfully swatting at him with a pillow. We start talking about home and our times in the woods, and even though we don't usually talk to each other this much, it feels good to be distracted from our worries, even if it's just for a little while. Neither of us bring up the issue of our families possibly starving, and we only focus on the good things. That time that I got stuck in a tree and Gale had to help me get down. Another time when the fence had been on and we both had to camp out in the woods.

After a while, both of us get drowsy, and Gale yawns before getting up. "Well, Catnip, I think I should go back to my room now. 'Night," he says, getting up to leave.

As soon as his weight leaves the bed, the room suddenly seems too big again and I touch his arm. "Wait, Gale, just stay."

He hesitates slightly. "You sure?" he asks. I nod, and he sits back down again, the mattress shifting under his weight. He lays down in the center of the bed, as close as he can get to me without actually touching me, and as our eyes meet my breath catches in my throat and I'm hyper aware of the little space between us.

"Good night," he says softly, his warm breath fanning over my face. I shudder, my stomach fluttering, and I roll over so I'm facing the other way.

"Good night," I mumble back. The last thing I feel before I fall asleep is Gale wrapping an arm around me and pulling me closer to him, so close that I can faintly feel his heartbeat drumming against my ear.

* * *

><p><strong>(AN) **

**The movie finally came out! Has anyone seen it? Please tell me what you think of it in the comments or PM me! Where I live, I won't be able to see the movie for a long, long time :( **

**Comments? Things you liked? Didn't like about this chapter? **


	11. Chapter 11

_**Inferno**_

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><p><strong>Disclaimer: I am not Suzanne Collins and I don't own the Hunger Games.<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 11<strong>

* * *

><p>"Katniss? Kat-niss!"<p>

I frown and screw my eyes shut, trying to block out the insistent knocking. After a few minutes of politely rapping on the door, Effie's manners fail her and she lets herself into my room. I can hear her heels clicking rhythmically as she approaches my bed. How does she stand to wear heels in the morning?

I feel the covers being lifted off of me, and Effie suddenly squeaks in surprise. I open my eyes slowly, trying to see what made her emit the unladylike sound. I shift my elbow, trying to prop myself up, but I hit something soft. Someone groans beside me and I sit up with a jolt, elbowing the person in the face a second time.

Gale rubs his cheek and lazily sits up, leaning back against the headboard.

"What is he doing here, young lady?" Effie turns to me, her voice scolding. "I thought I told you sleep in your _own _rooms."

"What is she doing here?" Gale says, still half-asleep and blinking several times to clear his eyes.

My cheeks start to warm. "I-"

"Wait 'till Haymitch hears about this," Effie mumbles, making a move to leave.

_Oh, god. Not Haymitch. _I don't think I can stand any more teasing from him. By the time I make up my mind to say something, though, Effie has already disappeared through the door.

"Shall we go to breakfast, Catnip?" Gale asks me, barely aware of what just happened.

* * *

><p>"So, since Effie found you two together in bed this morning, I think it's safe to assume that you two wouldn't mind being trained together. No problem, really. We'll be able to get more things done this way," Haymitch says once we finish breakfast.<p>

"Don't talk-" I start to snap at Haymitch, annoyed with the way he phrased his comment about me and Gale, but Haymitch interrupts me.

"Okay, no more bad jokes, alright? You have a drunk man's word," he says. I roll my eyes.

"You'll both spend four hours with Effie first, and then four hours with me for your interview angle," Haymitch tells me and Gale, and we both nod, exchanging a fleeting glance. Four hours with Effie does not sound like a good time.

"Okay," I reply hesitantly, "When do we start?"

"Right now."

Haymitch pauses, then laughs shortly. "I almost forgot, good luck. Knowing Effie, you'll definitely need it."

* * *

><p>Ten minutes later, I'm wishing with all of my heart that I could go back into my room and just sleep for the rest of the day.<p>

Gale watches, looking amused, as Effie makes me do all sorts of ridiculous walking exercises, wearing a floor length gown and high heeled shoes.

"Come on, Katniss, this shouldn't even be that difficult. I walk around in seven and a half inch heels all the time, and yours are only four and a half inches," Effie says, trying to be encouraging.

I attempt to take a few more steps in the ridiculous outfit, almost tripping over myself in the process. I can hear Gale chuckle from across the room, where he is comfortably seated on a sofa. I shoot a glare at him, and take another cautious step. I wobble, almost losing my balance, but I catch myself and bend a little. I gather a bit of the dress's hem in my hands and hike it up to the middle of my shins, but Effie suddenly appears in front of me, and slaps my hands away. I almost fall backwards but Effie steadies me by the shoulders. Gale's laughs echo through the room, but one glare from Effie shuts him up.

After half an hour of awkwardly hobbling around and getting reprimanded by Effie, I have almost mastered the art of walking around in heels. Towards the end, the only thing that keeps me going is the determination to be able to do anything Effie Trinket can do.

"Stop laughing, young man," Effie says, growing increasingly annoyed with Gale's constant chuckling. "I would put you in heels too, but I don't think we have any in your size." The laughter soon turns into stifled smiles.

When I'm finally able to walk the length of the room with minimal tripping, Effie claps and smiles, although she is obviously exasperated. "Finally! Thank goodness Cinna won't have you in heels this high," she says. I breath a sigh of relief and plop down onto the carpet, ripping the useless shoes off of my feet.

Once I'm back into normal clothes, Effie has me and Gale sit down on a couch. She circles us, and it seems as if she's trying to memorize every curve of our bodies.

Suddenly, she reaches over and slaps me and Gale on the back. We sit up with a start, and I look at Effie questioningly. "Horrible posture," she says, frowning, "Keep your backs straight."

Another blow to Gale's back.

"I said straight! Good, now stay that way," Effie says, keeping a careful eye on us.

After a few minutes, I feel my back curve just a bit, so little that it shouldn't even be noticeable. Effie somehow catches the minute movement and sharply delivers another slap.

All of the adjustments done, Gale and I sit frozen in our positions for what seems like an eternity. I want nothing more than to be able to slouch and get out of this uncomfortable position, but Effie's watching both of us like a hawk. When the faint ache in my spine becomes almost unbearable, Effie casually glances down at her watch and says that it's been enough time. Gale and I both simultaneously hunch over, earning us another slap from Effie's manicured hand.

"Fine," Effie sighs, obviously feeling a twinge of sympathy for me and Gale, "You can lean back on the couch, but do _not _lean forward and slouch."

Our next lesson is in smiling, which mainly consists of a long lecture from Effie on why we need to smile more and how it will benefit us.

"Gale right here could be the new, darker Finnick Odair, but you frown too much. Make your mood lighter, Gale, smile a bit," Effie says, and then waits patiently for Gale to smile. The smile never comes.

"Come on, it's only me, you, and Katniss here. Just one smile, and we can move on," Effie coaxes. Gale's face seems to be frozen in a permanent scowl.

"It can't possibly be that hard," Effie says, exasperated, and then turns to me. "Okay, you try, Katniss. One smile."

I make an effort, I really do, but I obviously cannot forcibly smile. I try to turn the corners of my mouth up, but I can feel them twitching.

"Relax your face, Katniss. You can't smile with only your mouth," Effie says, frowning. She suddenly starts beaming at me. "See, like this," she says through her upturned mouth.

I take Effie's advice, and apparently the end product is satisfactory, because Effie turns back to Gale.

"Now you try," she tells him. Gale stays stubbornly still, and Effie looks like she wants to rip her hair out. "Fine, if you won't smile for me, then turn towards Katniss and smile at her. Pretend I'm not even here," she says, throwing her hands up dramatically. Gale shifts a bit so that he's facing me.

"Go ahead, now," Effie says.

The first try, Gale twitches his lips abnormally, earning a laugh from me. When I laugh, though, Gale's face breaks into a genuine smile, and my heart almost stops upon seeing how different he looks. I never really noticed before, but when he actually smiles, his whole face lights up considerably, briefly taking away the hardness in his eyes and in his set of jaw.

"You should smile more often, Gale," I say, the corners of my own mouth turning up. Gale shrugs, and Effie starts to clap from her place.

"Now, all we have to do is see those smiles one more time."

* * *

><p>After lunch, Gale and I are led to the sitting room by a surprisingly clean and sober Haymitch. He gestures for us to sit on the couch, and we do so obediently. I wonder what sort of torture awaits us for the next few hours.<p>

Haymitch observes both me and Gale silently, and he stares at us for so long that I finally ask, "What?"

"I don't know what I'm going to do with both of you," Haymitch says, leaning back into his seat.

"Actually," he starts again, "I know what we're going to do with the boy, but not with you, sweetheart. The boy already has quite a reputation. Volunteered in a District 12 reaping for no apparent reason, got a perfect score of twelve, which I must add is the first twelve for as long as I can remember. And since you don't have a tendency to smile and be cheerful, I think we'll just continue with the mysterious thing you've got going on. Give vague answers, and you won't need to smile too much, just once or twice."

Gale nods, seeming satisfied with his angle.

"Let's sum up what sweetheart's got going for her," Haymitch says, moving on. "Volunteered for her sister, got the second highest training score, and has Cinna's showcasing during the opening ceremonies." Haymitch pauses. "People will want to know more about you. Where you came from. And if the boy successfully carries out his dark, brooding, and mysterious angle, Caesar is going to ask you questions about the boy. Why did he volunteer, for one."

Gale and I are both silent, letting Haymitch's words sink in.

"Which brings us to another point," he continues. "There have been rumors going around the Careers that you two are sweethearts, and the rumors have leaked into the Capitol. Now half of them think you might be related, because you look alike, and half of them believe the theory that you're sweethearts. Which is it?" Haymitch asks.

"Neither," I respond automatically, amazed by how the Capitol people will believe anything.

"Neither?" he repeats, "So you're not actually related, are you?"

"No," Gale says, a hint of annoyance creeping into his voice.

"We're just best friends," I say, "That's the truth. We're not messed up sweethearts or relatives or whatever the hell the Capitol thinks."

"I already told you, the truth doesn't matter in the Capitol," Haymitch says, his voice rising, "All that matters is what the people _think _is the truth, so you have to choose one of the two angles. You're either relatives, sweethearts, or you drop it altogether." I start to butt in, but Haymitch cuts me off. "And if you drop it altogether, you can't be allies in the arena. That'll only confuse people."

"That's not fair," I say, frowning at Haymitch. I want to argue against everything he's just said, but it's useless. What he's said is true.

"It's not," he agrees, "But you have to go with it. So which will it be?" Haymitch eyes both me and Gale.

"Relatives," I respond, only to have Gale give me a funny look. "Isn't it obvious?" I ask. I'm met by silence.

Haymitch starts to laugh. He laughs and laughs until his alcohol weakened body can't take it anymore, and I just stare at him in complete bewilderment, wondering if he's finally lost his mind. "You two have got yourselves in a nasty little situation here," he says, once his laughter subsides.

"We'll let the whole thing play out by itself, is that fair enough?" Haymitch says, looking specifically at Gale. "Let's focus on sweetheart's personal angle right now."

So for the rest of the session, Haymitch asks me a heap of questions about my life and my family. He gets short, vague responses.

"You have to open up more," Haymitch says, growing irritated, "So far, I've learned nothing about you."

"I don't want you to learn about me," I snap, sick of this whole thing.

"That attitude's not going to get you anywhere," Haymitch says, narrowing his eyes. "You have to be someone."

Gale watches wearily as we launch into another tirade of angry questions and answers, and in the end I'm literally spitting out answers at Haymitch.

"You know what? Just be your sullen, hostile self. Maybe the Capitol will find that charming," Haymitch says, giving up.

"Any real advice?" I practically snarl.

"Fine, then. Gush. Gush about the Capitol and how much you love it and answer a few personal questions along the way. Are we satisfied?" Haymitch asks, not waiting for the answer.

"I don't like the Capitol!" I scream, but it's too late. Haymitch is already gone, probably off to get drunk somewhere.

I storm out of the room with Gale right behind me.

"Catnip," he starts, but I cut him off.

"Just don't," I say. "I just want to get something to eat, and then maybe I can sleep. This...this whole thing's hopeless."

Gale's about to say something in response, but Effie appears at the end of the hallway, and she rushes towards us. "Come on, come on!" she exclaims, shoving us towards our rooms. "You have to go to bed right now and get some beauty sleep." Effie pauses, considering something. "Well, maybe Gale doesn't need his beauty sleep, but still. Tomorrow's a big, big day!"

* * *

><p>Once I'm in my room, I order an insensible amount of food and eat and eat until I'm sick and have to go rushing to the bathroom. I'm angry at Haymitch; I'm angry at the world right now for treating us this way. Me, Gale, and all of the other kids in the Seam who have to provide for their families have never lived. We've only <em>survived. <em>We survive on the scraps that the Capitol throws away for us, while they feast from their fancy linens and eat only the finest food. It's so unfair, so outrageous.

My rooms feels the full force of my fury. I pick up all of the fancy vases and decorations and empty plates lying around and chuck them at the walls and the tables. I scream and scream myself hoarse, and just as I'm about to throw an enameled bowl at my dresser, someone grabs my arms from behind and restrains me.

"Calm down, Catnip," Gale says, sounding a bit shaken.

I whirl around, roughly tugging my arms out of his grasp. I just stare at him for a while, his face looking blurry through my rage-clouded eyes. When my breathing finally steadies and I can see clearly again, I collapse into his arms.

* * *

><p><strong>(AN)**

**Thank you _everyone _for all of your wonderful comments! Since so many people seem to like the movie, I guess I'll have to watch it as soon as I can ;) **

**The interviews are next! *drumroll* I already have the basic interviews set up, but if you have any ideas at all, please let me know!**


	12. Chapter 12

_**Inferno**_

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><p><strong>Disclaimer: I am not Suzanne Collins and I don't own the Hunger Games.<strong>

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><p><strong>Chapter 12<strong>

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><p>I wake up to the gentle sound of a broom dusting the floor. I sit up in bed and look over to see the redheaded Avox cleaning the mess I made last night. Suddenly alert, I scramble out of bed and make it to the girl's side.<p>

"Just leave it. I-I''ll clean it myself. Sorry," I mumble sheepishly, reaching for the broom in the girl's hand. She pulls back slightly, pointing at my right hand. I look down and see that it's wrapped in gauze. I jerk my head back towards the bed, wondering how I got there in the first place. _Gale, _I think. He must've bandaged me up and put me into bed last night after my fit.

"It's fine, my hand doesn't hurt that much," I say, reaching for the broom again, but the girl shakes her head and continues to sweep. I don't insist a third time.

We're silent for a few minutes, with me just staring at the girl as she uses the broom to guide all of the shards of glass and ceramic into a corner of the room.

"I should've helped you," I say quietly. The girl looks up and shakes her head.

"No, I should've. I-it was wrong of us to leave you like that. I'm sorry," I say, even though words cannot make up for everything this girl has lost.

The girl shakes her head in dissent again and points towards her heart. I think she's saying I would've ended up an Avox, too, or died. Too bad I'm going to die now anyway.

After the room is finally clean and all of the litter has been sent down a garbage disposal chute, the girl leaves silently and I go back to bed. I eventually drift off to sleep again, thoughts of the redheaded Avox whirling in my mind.

* * *

><p>Right after breakfast, Gale and I whisked off to our prep teams for our interview transformations, barely giving us any time to talk. Venia, Octavia, and Flavius are ecstatic when they see me. They gush about how everyone is talking about me and Gale in the Capitol, and they tell me how it's so amazing that they get to work with me. I smile, because the three of them just seem so oblivious and innocent that it's ridiculous.<p>

Everyone busies themselves with working on me, stenciling flame designs on my arms and painting fiery patterns on my nails. My hair is twisted into another elaborate braid, this time with red strands running through it to keep with the fire theme. My face is covered in a thin layer of natural make-up, and then adjustments are made to make my features stand out. My eyes have the illusion of being almost black instead of gray, and there's flecks of gold in my lashes that throw off light. I'm desperately hoping that whatever Cinna decides to put me in amazes people enough that they won't care about the actual content of my interview.

When a finishing layer of shimmering golden powder is put on my whole body, Cinna enters the room. He holds what I assume is my dress in a white garment bag.

"Close your eyes!" Venia squeals, and instead of waiting for me to close my eyes on my own, Octavia clamps a hand over them.

Someone helps me stand up, and the dress is slipped over my head. I almost stumble under the weight; I wasn't expecting it to be this heavy. It must be thirty something pounds. I am nudged from behind and I blindly step forward into a pair of heels, which to my relief are significantly lower than the ones Effie had me wear. To my relief, the skirt hangs in a way that it doesn't get tangled in my feet.

"Open your eyes," someone says, sounding awestruck.

I obey, and look into the mirror placed in front of me. I gasp. I can barely recognize myself. My dress is covered in precious stones that reflect the light and create the illusion of flames. Red, orange, yellow and bits of white and blue all come together to create a breath-taking effect, only enhanced by the shimmering powder and make-up. There's silence for a few moments as everyone drinks me in.

"Twirl for me," Cinna says softly, and I do. I catch glimpses of myself in the mirror as the prep team shrieks.

"Oh, thank you Cinna. You're amazing," I say in a hushed voice. "You too, Octavia, Venia, and Flavius," I add quickly, when I see their faces fall slightly. "Thanks for everything."

Cinna dismisses the prep team and then it's only me and him in the room. I practice walking around in the heels and find that they're not that difficult to manage, at least compared to Effie's shoes.

"Ready for the interview?" Cinna asks, his smile just a bit forced. I can tell he's talked to Haymitch and knows that I have no idea what to do.

"Not really. I'm no one," I say honestly. I carefully sit down in a chair. "I don't know what to do."

"You don't have to be someone," Cinna says gently, "just be yourself."

"But no one will like me that way. I'm sullen and hostile, remember?" I reply.

"The Capitol thinks you're wonderful. I think you're wonderful, and the prep team thinks you're wonderful. It's only Haymitch you have a problem with," Cinna says, smiling. "Just pretend you're talking to a friend while answering the questions. Someone like Gale, for example."

"Or you," I say softly, "because Gale already knows everything there is to know about me."

"It's a plan then," Cinna says, nodding. "I'll be sitting in the main row with the other stylists, so just look over whenever you're asked a question. Just answer honestly."

I nod. It's better than nothing, and pretending to talk to Cinna alone will be easier than imagining talking to the whole Capitol.

"We should go now," Cinna says after a few moments of silence. I get up slowly and we walk to the door. I watch in anxiety as Cinna turns the door knob.

"What if I completely mess it up?" I ask. Cinna holds the door open for me.

"You won't," Cinna reassures me. "Come on, Girl on Fire."

* * *

><p>"You look amazing, Catnip," Gale says softly, his gaze lingering on me. We stand together in our own little corner of the elevator.<p>

I duck my head slightly as a flush spreads over my cheeks. "Cinna's designing is the one thing I have going for me," I say. I look over Gale's outfit quickly before saying, "You don't look too bad yourself, Hawthorne." Gale puts his hand over his heart.

"Why thank you, Catnip," he says in mock appreciation, and I laugh. While we're not exactly matching, mine and Gale's outfits complement each other. He's wearing a simple, all-black suit with flame accents to keep in tune with our theme of fire.

"I'm wearing a lot less make-up than the first time," Gale remarks, touching his cheek. A bit of olive colored powder comes off on his fingers. Portia shoots him a glare from across the elevator.

There's a _ding_ as the elevator arrives at the right floor. We all slowly walk out of it, with everyone keeping an eye on me and Gale to insure we don't mess up our costumes. The rest of the tributes are already lined up to take their places on the stage, where we'll all be seated in giant arc.

My heart rate spikes as I hear someone tell the tributes that we'll be on the stage in only a minute. Gale grabs my hand and leads me towards the end of the line.

Haymitch stops us for a second. "Remember," he whispers, "this is where you'll decide your angle. Relatives or sweethearts. Got it?"

Gale and I nod simultaneously. I'm guessing that it'll probably be up to me to establish our angle, since I go up before Gale.

Gale looks he wants to say something to me, and he opens and closes his mouth a few times, in the end whispering a soft, "Good luck."

"You too," I say, turning back around because District 11 has just walked onto the stage. I stand up straight, hoping I don't tumble over. I'm relieved when I make to my chair without tripping.

Even though it's almost evening now, the City Circle is obnoxiously bright. The stylists are already seated in the front row, and there's an elevated seating area for prestigious guests. Television crews crowd most of the remaining seating, and Capitol citizens flood all of the other remaining space. It's dizzying to see the masses of people packed here just to see the tributes. To think that's there's still thousands more watching from home. I picture the giant screens in District 12's own square, and I imagine mine and Gale's family huddled around our tiny television, anxiously watching and cut off from the rest of district.

I watch as Caesar Flickerman, the man who has hosted the interviews for as long as I can remember, walks onto the stage. He shouts a greeting to the crowd, and I take in his unnervingly unchanged appearance. Thanks to the Capitol's many available types of surgeries, he looks as if he's frozen in his late twenties or early thirties. His lips and hair are dyed powder blue, making him look freakish, but it's better than the crimson color he donned last year.

After Caesar tells a few warm-up jokes, he calls up the first interviewee. The District 1 girl, whose angle is obviously sexy, with her long blonde hair and see-through dress. I nervously watch and wait as all of the three-minute interviews slip by. My palms grow more and more sweaty with each time the buzzer goes off, signaling the end of an interview. Everyone seems to have an angle, whether it's being ruthless, shy, gentle, or elusive.

2,3,4.

8,9,10.

11.

I actually pay attention to Rue's interview. Caesar makes everyone feel at ease during their interviews, skillfully rewording their responses so they sound better than they actually are. With Rue, though, he's particularly sweet. The angel-like wings attached to her silky dress bob up and down whenever she nods in response to a question. Caesar compliments her seven in training and asks what her secret is.

"I'm very hard to catch," she says, not hesitating, "if I can't be caught, I won't be killed. So don't count me out just yet."

"I don't think anyone will," Caesar responds encouragingly.

All too soon, it's my turn to be questioned, and I stand up shakily. My heart's pounding and I feel as though my whole body is shaking uncontrollably. Gale shoots me a smile. "Up you go, Catnip," he says, just like he did at the reaping, but this time his tone is encouraging instead of heartbreaking. I manage to straighten myself up and make it to the chair opposite Caesar, my dress catching the light as I walk.

I settle myself in the chair, standing up as straight as I can and folding my hands in my lap. I not to fiddle with the jewels on my dress.

"Well, Katniss, I think everyone here is just dying to know more about you. Am I right?" he shouts at the end, addressing the crowd. Everyone screams back in agreement.

"Let's start with your training score, shall we? An eleven," Caesar says, and then asks, "Do you mind telling us how you did it?" I blink a few times and turn slightly to the crowd, searching for Cinna's face. He shakes his head ever-so-slightly.

"Well, I don't think I'm supposed to talk about it, am I?" I ask.

"She's not!" one of the Gamemakers yells, sounding slightly irritated.

"Sorry, can't say anything," I smile, hoping to appear mysterious. I catch Cinna's eye in the crowd and he nods.

Caesar's face falls dramatically for a moment, but then he pipes right back up. "Well, it must've been interesting. Not to worry, though, we have plenty more to discuss," he says cheerily.

"Your costumes at the opening ceremonies. My heart nearly stopped when I saw you and your district partner up on that chariot. I thought you couldn't possibly top that get-up off, but then I saw you in this dress," he says, gesturing towards me. "What do you think about your stylist's designing?"

"This?" I ask, bunching a bit of my dress in my hand to stall for time. "It's wonderful. I don't even feel like myself." I automatically slide my gaze towards Cinna, and he mouthes _twirl for me. _I stand up and spin around, arms outstretched. The crowd shrieks in admiration. "Can you believe this?"

Caesar looks truly awestruck. "That's simply amazing, isn't it?" he asks the crowd. "Who do we have to thank for this?" Caesar says, turning back to me.

"Cinna," I say, grinning, "He's been wonderful this whole time, and I can't imagine having a better stylist." The cameras all train on Cinna as he smiles and waves all the attention back towards me.

Caesar glances down towards his wrist at a nonexistent watch, drawing a laugh from the crowd. "We'll skip to more pressing matters now that our time is running short," he says in a false, gruff voice, earning more laughter from the crowd.

He leans in slightly towards me, and the audience slowly grows quiet, sensing the subtle shift in mood.

All traces of humor suddenly gone from his voice, Caesar asks softly, "Why did you volunteer?" The City Circle grows so silent, it seems as if everyone is bating their breath.

"I-I couldn't let her go," I stutter, briefly looking down towards my lap. I was okay with the other questions, but this seems too personal. Too close to heart. "M-my sister. Her name's Prim, and she's the sweetest, most innocent girl I know. I love her too much to let her face this."

"I think we all feel for you," Caesar says softly, seeming genuinely sympathetic.

"Which brings us to our last question. Why do you think your district partner volunteered to take the other tribute's place? Are you two also related?" he asks, his voice still gentle.

I try to forget Prim for a moment and I frantically try to come up with an answer. I can almost hear Haymitch whispering to me. _You're either relatives, sweethearts, or you drop it altogether. _

"We're close," I finally say. "Actually, we're-"

The buzzer goes off. The last word, _cousins, _remains unsaid.

"Well, as much as we'd like to hear you finish that sentence, your time seems to be up. Rules are rules, afterall," Caesar says, sounding a bit disappointed himself. The audience groans and Cinna shoots me a quick thumbs-up.

"Thank you," I say, getting up from my seat and walking back across the stage. I look over at Gale, but he won't meet my eyes.

"And last, but definitely not least, we have Gale Hawthorne!" Caesar calls out exuberantly.

As Gale strides confidently towards the chair that I occupied seconds ago, the Capitol women's screams grow noticeably louder. Once everyone quiets down a bit, Caesar dives right into the interview.

"So, Gale, I think you may as well be the most interesting tribute we have this year," Caesar says. Gale shrugs indifferently. The crowd goes on shrieking. "District 12 volunteer, strong, good-looking," Caesar pauses deliberately, and the women scream their approval, "and not to mention your perfect training score. But first, I think we're all dying to know the answer to the question that Katniss left us hanging with. What is your relation to her, exactly?"

"We're close," Gale says vaguely, quoting me.

"Relatives?" Caesar prods, getting the feeling that Gale won't willingly give any responses.

Gale hesitates slightly, only enough for me to pick up on it. _Yes, yes, yes, yes..._

"No," he says tersely.

"What," I mutter under my breath, "Is he doing?" _You're either relatives, sweethearts, or you drop it altogether..._

"Interesting," Caesar says, adopting a dramatic thinking pose. "Then, how exactly, would you describe your relationship?"

"We're best friends," Gale replies.

"Really? Because I've been hearing rumors...," Caesar trails off.

"Maybe the rumors are wrong," Gale says dismissively. The audience looks unconvinced, and I can only imagine what new theories must swirling around in their dull minds.

"Maybe they are," Caesar says conclusively. It's obvious he'll go nowhere else with Gale on the subject, at least not this way.

"So, Gale, could you tell us why you volunteered at the reaping?" he asks, moving on. "Do you have any relation with the original chosen tribute?"

"No," Gale replies, his voice clipped.

Gale's stubbornness is apparently charming to the Captiol women, because the women in the front that I can see clearly are leaning forward in anticipation. Or maybe they're just trying to get a better look at him. Either way, Gale's definitely going to have sponsors after him.

"Did you volunteer so you could come with her?" Caesar asks, obviously referring to me.

"I guess," Gale says hesitantly.

"You guess?" Caesar questions.

"Well, I guess I did volunteer for her," Gale says, and there's a resounding _aww_ from the audience.

Haymitch was right when he said that we'd have to be either relatives or sweethearts. The Capitol people are too simple-minded to understand that we're only best friends.

"Why?" Caesar prods.

"Because I couldn't let her go through this alone," Gale says. Another wave of hushed _awws_ goes through the crowd, along with a murmur of sympathy.

"We're best friends," Gale adds quickly. I can tell he tacked on the last part to remind people that we are _not_ lovers. It's too late, though, because it's clear they're ignoring the friends bit.

"I hate to rush through this, but there's one more question I want to ask you. Now, it's clear that you can't talk about what you did to earn that remarkable twelve in training, but what would you like us to know about your score?"

"It means," Gale says, his voice slightly stronger, "that no one should look down on District 12 this year. "

"After what we've seen of you, never in a million years, Gale," Caesar promises, and the buzzer goes off.

All of the tributes stand for the anthem, and as I hold my head high, I can only think about how messed up our angle has gotten, no thanks to Gale. If only I had spoken earlier during my interview and said that we're cousins. If only Gale had just gone along and said that we're cousins.

After the anthem, the tributes come off the stage and line up for the elevators along with the stylists and mentors. Unfortunately, I land in a car with Haymitch because I lost Gale in the flood of people. Our car has to stop at five floors before only me and Haymitch are left.

"So I see you two have gone along with the lovers angle," he says, smirking. I clench my jaw.

"We didn't. Gale clearly said we're best friends," I point out angrily.

"Ah, that he did, sweetheart. And then he said that he volunteered so he could come along with you, and the Capitol people immediately forgot that he even mentioned you were best friends. When those Capitolites sense even the slightest, most alien opportunity for romance, they take it," Haymitch says matter-of-factly.

The elevator stops and the doors slide open as we arrive on our floor. We step outside of the elevator to find that everyone is already there.

"Attention everyone!" Haymitch says loudly, disrupting the chatter in the room. We all look up at him. Haymitch takes me by the arm and nudges me towards Gale. Unfortunately, even though the push is gentle enough, my shoes decide now is the time to twist and I stumble to my right. Gale swiftly stoops down and grabs me by my shoulders, steadying me.

"I present to you, the star-crossed lovers of District 12!" Haymitch yells as a grand finale. With that, he takes off towards his room, laughing the whole way.

* * *

><p><strong>(AN)**

**This chapter was probably the most fun to write :) Sorry if it seems way too long, but I didn't want to divide it because I felt it wouldn't flow as well. I know the interviews are kind of lame, because I'm not really good at writing interview-y stuff, if that makes any sense. **


	13. Chapter 13

_**Inferno**_

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><p><strong>Disclaimer: I am not Suzanne Collins and I don't own the Hunger Games.<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 13<strong>

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><p>That night, I toss and turn in bed, not being able to help the images and thoughts that cross my mind. What if the arena is a never-ending desert? What if it's a lone island in a giant body of water? I could be separated from Gale right from the beginning. What would I do then? How would I survive? I can feel my thoughts rapidly running out of my reach and I throw my sheets and blankets off of me, swinging my feet onto the floor silently. With my hunter's tread, I crack open my door and slip out of it, and navigate the dark hall until I arrive in front of Gale's door.<p>

I nudge the door open a bit, peeking in cautiously before stepping all the way in. Moonlight casts soft, pale blueish light over everything. Gale's form is illuminated on the giant bed, and by the way he switches sides every few moments I can tell he's definitely not sleeping. When I pad closer to his side, I can see that he's fully awake, his stormy gray eyes wide.

"Couldn't sleep?" he asks, his expression knowing. He shifts over on the bed and props himself up on one elbow. Gale pats the spot beside him, inviting me. I hesitate slightly, then hike up my night gown to my shins so I can climb onto the bed easily.

"Aren't you worried?" I ask, suddenly feeling nauseous. Everything so far -the opening ceremonies, the training, the interviews- had felt like I was floating through a dream. Now reality is all too clear, with the Games only a day away.

_We are going the Games tomorrow. The Hunger Games. _

"I am, Catnip," Gale says, closing his eyes briefly.

"How are we going to make it?" I ask, panic rising in my throat. "These are the freaking Hunger Games. I can't... I don't... it seems too weird. This is all so weird and scary," I say intelligently.

"I know," Gale replies, his features softening. "You and me... I never thought we'd be in this situation."

Neither of us brings up how this could've easily been avoided if Gale hadn't volunteered. Maybe if Peeta Mellark were here instead of Gale, I wouldn't feel as uneasy about the prospect of going home without him. It would've been easier on my conscious to win. In some twisted way, though, I'm glad that Gale's here. At least we'll be going through this together.

"I can't help but wonder what our situation will be like. Our clothes, the arena, the weapons. There's so many variables," I say, looking down at the space in between me and Gale.

"Don't think about that now. We'll find out soon enough. Thinking about it will only get us more worried, and we need as much sleep as we can get. Effie said we'll be waking up at the crack of dawn," Gale says, imitating her accent at the last part. I laugh softly, even though it's forced.

"I guess so," I reply, but the crazy thoughts still don't go away.

In the silence that follows, I'm acutely aware of the little space between me and Gale. We breath in and out in sync, and the soft noise seems to be ridiculously loud in the large room. I remember the interviews and the angle Gale has inadvertently given us, and a slight blush creeps up my cheeks. I'm grateful for the darkness. As time passes, I think that we can get away without discussing the interviews, but after a few more quiet moments, Gale brings it up.

"So, our angle. That got pretty screwed up, didn't it?" Gale asks, his tone light. I detect some unidentifiable emotion underneath it, though.

"It did," I say, remembering Haymitch's exclamation.

_I present to you, the star-crossed lovers of District 12! _

My blush deepens.

"I was only trying to say the truth. The Capitol people's stupid minds don't understand the truth, apparently," Gale says, frowning slightly.

"It's fine," I say. My cheeks burn on. "I know you didn't mean to get it across like that. It doesn't matter."

To lighten the mood, I add, "I wonder how Prim and Rory reacted to the interviews." We hold each other's gazes for a few seconds, dead serious, and then burst out laughing, even though it's sort of unnecessary. Laughing helps to relieve some of the nerves. I don't miss, though, how Gale's eyes still seem to burn while he laughs, and how he looks right at me.

"I hope they didn't interpret it the way the Capitol people did," Gale says. I shiver slightly as a wave of cold coming from the air conditioning hits me. Gale's quick eye catches the movement.

"Cold?" he asks playfully, wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling me closer to him. My breath catches slightly in my throat at the gentle movement. Gale pauses, running his eyes lazily over my face, and I hold my breath as he leans down towards me. My eyes close on their own, and moments later I feel the soft pressure of his lips on my cheek. My eyes flutter open again. The gesture is familiar, but it feels different this time. More intimate.

_Don't be stupid, _I scold myself. _You're brother and sister. Brother and sister..._

Gale doesn't miss the way I let out a small sigh after he resumes his previous position.

"Anything to say, Catnip?" he asks, his tone still light and teasing.

"N-no," I say, horrified at the way I stutter.

"You sure?" he persists, and his voice drops lower. I clench one of my hands into a fist.

_Calm down, Katniss. What's wrong with you?_

Gale angles his body, still propped up on one elbow. The small adjustment makes it seem as if he's towering over me.

"Gale-" I start to whisper, suddenly feeling short of breath, but he tilts his head down and slowly presses his mouth to my lips. The pressure is gone almost as soon as it came, but the effect it has on me is amazing. I gasp for air, my mouth tingling. I can feel my eyes widen and my eyebrows arch in surprise.

"Sorry," Gale says, his voice husky. "I had to do that, at least once."

I stare at him, bemused and dumbfounded.

"Catnip?" he asks, his voices still rough. I shudder just hearing it. "Catnip? I'm sorry. I know you've always said that you've never wanted to marry and have children and I just figured that since we're both going to-"

A loud slap echoes through the room as my hand meets Gale's cheek on impulse.

"What the hell was that for?" Gale practically growls, but it soon turns into, "I guess I deserved that." He rubs his cheek, and I finally muster up words to verbalize.

"That was for not asking me any permission, or giving me any warning," I say matter-of-factly. My voice still shakes.

Gale grins, the last thing I expected him to do. "So you're not angry?"

"I am beyond angry," I say. I surprise myself by getting up the courage to nestle into his side. "I think you've actually made me go mad. As in the crazy sense." As soon as the words leave my mouth I realize how jumbled and weird they sound coming from me.

_Gale kissed me. _

Gale gently takes hold of my shoulders and pulls me away from him, just enough so that his eyes can meet mine. "What?" he asks, one eyebrow arched.

_Gale kissed me._

How could one kiss that was never supposed to happen break through me and bring all of the things I've told myself about love and marriage come crashing down?

"Nothing," I say slowly. "Just nothing."

"No, I think it's something," Gale says, his expression hinting at a smile. It's infuriating. "Did I just completely break through the obstinate Katniss Everdeen's shell? Never heard you talk all funny like that before, Catnip."

"You did not. I'm still mad at you," I say, frowning.

_Gale kissed me. _

"Did too."

"Did not."

"Did too."

"Did not, Gale Hawthorne. You most certainly did not-"

Gale effectively cuts me off by grabbing hold of the back of my neck and covering my lips with his once again. This time, I react without thinking and let my fingers tangle themselves into his hair. We press closer together almost automatically, and one of Gale's hand remains against my blazing cheek, while the other is hooked around my waist. We part after a few moments, the need to get air momentarily overpowering everything else. I feel completely and utterly _alive _and stupidly invincible.

"Did too, Catnip," Gale says, and before I can butt in, he smirks and adds, "I think you just proved me right."

I blush, burying my face in the crook of his neck and breathing in the air of District 12 that hangs around him.

I forget all that I've told myself about not loving anyone. This feels completely right, even though the circumstances couldn't be any worse. I cling to Gale and he keeps the same tight grip on me as we both seem to remember that it's the night before the Hunger Games. All of our previous lightness and teasing gone, we silently acknowledge the other's misery and fall asleep tangled with each other.

* * *

><p><strong>(AN) **

**Sorry for making you guys wait so long for a filler-ish chapter :/ **

**Well, anyway, it felt weird putting this scene in the same chapter that the Games were supposed to start in, so I just separated them. **

**Hope you guys enjoyed regardless :D**


	14. Chapter 14

_**Inferno**_

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><p><strong>Disclaimer: I am not Suzanne Collins and I don't own the Hunger Games.<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 14<strong>

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><p>"Wake up," I hear someone whisper into my ear, sounding incredibly annoyed. "Wake up, Catnip, for god's sake. Wake up!"<p>

"What?" I mumble, and through my sleep-encrusted eyes I can just barely make out the time displayed on Gale's clock. Three in the morning.

Out of instinct, my hands dart to the right of me, expecting Prim's warmth but only finding silky, cold sheets. A haze lifts off of me and I sit up with a start. "Are you crazy? We don't need to be awake for another hour!" I say to Gale.

One hour of lost sleep shouldn't make too much of an impact on me, since I've learned to live with only as little as three hours of sleep at a time, but the Games are today. We can use as much rest as we can get.

"We only have a few more hours of freedom," Gale says impatiently. "We should make use of it." As much as I would like to argue with him, I know he has a point.

Gale plants a brief kiss on my forehead before I scramble out of bed. The gesture brings back bits and pieces of last night's events in a flurry, until I have the whole picture in my mind. My lips seem to be on fire, and I'm afraid that they're doing something like glowing or burning as a notice to the whole world. I duck my head momentarily, touching my lips for a fleeting second. A weight seems to settle in my stomach. What had gotten into me last night? What happened to the strict mantra about love I'd planted in my head since the age of twelve?

_There must've been something in the food last night, _I decide.

Neither of us bother changing out of our nightclothes. Gale takes my hand, and although my deeply-ingrained instincts are screaming at me to pull away after what happened the night before, I let him hold it. I don't want him to think I regret anything, even though I'm not sure I don't. I feel more conscious than I should with the completely innocent gesture as we move through the silent halls, half-expecting Haymitch to pop up and laugh at me.

Gale tugs me towards the staircase to the roof. Thankfully, the door's closed but unlocked, and Gale quietly pulls it open. He starts to climb the stairs and I follow him, marveling at the sight that awaits us on the rooftop. The Capitol is even brighter than the first night we saw it. I can hear singing and a loud hum of conversation, punctuated by car horns. Everything is alive and moving, colors clashing with colors and lights blinking on and off.

"To think that is all for us," Gale says dryly as we both look down on the city. We drift into a contented silence, and I close my eyes and try to savor the feeling of the cool breeze on my face.

"I still can't believe that we've gotten ourselves into this mess," I say, opening my eyes and staring out at the city.

"The Capitol got us into this mess," Gale responds, casting a sideways glance at me. _Typical. _

"Yeah."

"Catnip?" he prods. "I know there's something else on your mind."

"I can't do this, Gale," I say finally. "We can't do this. The Games change people, Gale. Remember that one girl a few years ago? She was so genuinely sweet and almost completely innocent in the interviews, but she killed nine people. Nine people."

Gale grabs me by the shoulders and whirls me around so that I'm facing him.

"So you're going to let the Capitol change you?" he asks, an all-too-familiar fire burning in his eyes.

"Gale, they control our lives right now. We're in their hands, and-"

"Are you going to let the Capitol get in your way?" he asks, his voice hard.

"I-"

"Are you?"

"Wait, Gale-"

"No, Katniss. They've taken away our lives, for god's sake. Don't let them change the real you. We're gonna show them that we're more than just pieces in their game," Gale says firmly, holding my gaze. His hatred for the Capitol has always been obvious to me, but right now that hatred is multiplied by a thousand, and I'm shocked still by it. Gale's rants in the woods have already proven enough to me that he despises the Capitol, but the look on his face right now makes me think he could start an uprising all on his own.

The notion scares me.

I nod mutely in agreement to Gale's words.

Maybe if I kill myself early on I can escape this hell-hole. I'll never even give the Capitol the chance to turn me into some sort of killing machine. _But then you'll be leaving Gale alone, _I tell myself. I can't leave Gale. Or Prim. I'll have to choose between them in the arena. I'll have to leave one of them.

Even though I'm not quivering and I'm pretty sure that I don't look like I'm on the verge of a breakdown, my internal conflict must be reflected in my eyes because Gale's expression softens and he makes a move to wrap his arms around me. I involuntarily make a slight movement backwards. There's a flash of hurt in Gale's eyes but it's gone as soon as it came. He turns back around.

"We also can't do this, Gale," I say, my voice slightly shaky. I gesture vaguely at the space in between us. "We just can't. The Games are today."

_We can't get too close_, I tell myself. _The closer you are, the harder it gets. _Besides, bad things always seem to happen to anyone I dare to love. I loved my father, he was blown into bits. I loved my mother at one point, and she clocked out on the world. I love Prim, and she got reaped.

"Sorry about last night, Catnip. I won't push you. I'm sorry," he repeats, looking guilty.

I open my mouth to say that's not what I meant, but he cuts in.

"I've heard your philosophies on love so many times I've pretty much memorized them, Catnip. I'm sorry," he repeats for the third time. "I shouldn't have."

My heart tells me to contradict him but my mind holds me back. Maybe it's better this way. Besides, old habits die hard. Regardless, I launch myself into his arms.

"Not your fault," I mumble, crushed against his chest. "I think the universe just hates us." I don't know what I mean by that last line and I don't elaborate either, leaving Gale to interpret it any way he wants.

We stand like that until the sun rises somewhere in the distance.

"We have to go back before Effie and Haymitch start to worry about us," I say, reluctantly breaking the silence. I wind myself out of his grasp. I start to head down the stairs, but Gale stops me, quickly ducking into the greenhouse. After a few moments, he emerges out of it, carrying something in his hand. He uncurls his fingers to reveal a small, Capitol-engineered berry resting in his palm.

"And may the odds," he starts. The berry comes in a high arc towards me. I catch it with my mouth, letting the artificial sweetness explode in my mouth.

"Be ever in your favor," I finish.

We're just mocking ourselves now and Gales knows it too. The odds haven't been in our favor for quite a while now and I see no reason for that to change.

* * *

><p>As we descend the staircase, over Gale's head I can just make out a frantic Effie pacing up and down the hallways. Haymitch leans against the wall, looking amused. "They'll turn up, Effie. I bet they've just gone off somewhere for some alone time."<p>

Gale and I move into Haymitch's field of view and he says, "See? I told you." Effie stops her pacing and comes towards us, grabbing one of us in each arm and pulling us towards the sitting room. Once we all arrive there, I see that Cinna and Portia are already waiting for us.

"Fifteen minutes until the hovercraft comes," Effie says, glancing down at her watch.

Everyone is completely silent once we settle into the couches. Gale and I sit together in the middle of the group, shoulders touching.

"Remember, sweetheart," Haymitch says finally. "Gotta play up the angle. You'll lose a lot of sponsors if you don't, although I guess the boy's looks could still keep you two going." I nod briefly in reply, not dwelling much on the thought much. My nerves escalate with each passing second.

"It should be here now," Effie says, and I'm surprised to find she sounds like she's holding back tears. Everyone gets up and me and Gale stand rather robotically, exchanging a look. _This is it. _

Effie hugs us, real tears making their way down her face, and I realize that it doesn't take much to get someone from the Capitol to cry. I suppose that Gale and I are the only ones who have the right to cry right now; after all, one or both of us is going to die in the near future. Haymitch stands with his arms crossed and offers one last, "Stay alive." Effie and Haymitch won't be escorting us to the arena. That's the designers' job.

Everyone trudges up the stairs once our goodbyes are exchanged. Two hovercrafts appear out of nowhere when we're on the roof. One for Gale and one for me to take us to our separate launching pads. Before we board, Effie gives us each one last, suffocating hug, and then Gale and I turn to each other, holding each other's gazes for a brief moment before Gale engulfs me in his arms. We cling to each other for a few short moments, and I hear Effie sigh from somewhere off to my right. Haymitch doesn't even snicker this time.

"Time to go," Cinna says, gently laying a hand on my shoulder. I part from Gale, and follow Cinna to the ladder of one of the hovercrafts. Gale trails behind Portia. Cinna starts to climb up the ladder first, and when I start to follow him by putting my hands on the lower rungs, a current freezes me in place until we're safely onto the hovercraft. Once we're on, a woman in a white coat appears and injects something into my arm while I'm still paralyzed.

"A tracker," she tells me. "Wouldn't want to lose a tribute in the arena, would we?" she adds with a laugh.

I locate the nearest seat and plop down onto it, staring out the window. Cinna sits quietly beside me, not saying anything. His presence comforts me, if only a tiny bit. An Avox appears from a door off to the right, and he carries a giant tray with breakfast. Despite my churning stomach, I eat as much as I can, not knowing the next time I'll have a proper meal. The whole half hour trip passes by in a whirlwind of colors and my own crazy thoughts. I look at the passing birds wistfully.

_If only I were like them. __Free._

When the hovercraft lands Cinna and I are led into an underground tube. We follows instructions into a small chamber that I'll be dressed and launched from. The Stockyard, they call it in the districts. Where animals go before slaughter. In the Capitol, it's called the Launching Room, a significantly milder term.

I shower and clean my teeth, trying to keep my breakfast down. Cinna twists my hair into my familiar braid down my back, and a few minutes later my clothes arrive. Cinna takes out the outfit and helps me dress into the undergarments, simple pants, green blouse, sturdy brown belt, and thin, hooded black jacket that falls to my thighs.

"The material in the jacket's designed to reflect body heat," he says, pinching some of the fabric between his fingers. The boots that came with the clothes are flexible and durable, better than the ones I have back home, though not as familiar. After I've pulled on both boots, Cinna pulls my Mockingjay pin from his pocket and fastens it onto my blouse.

"I forgot about that," I say. I must've left it on my clothes and Cinna rescued it.

We sit in silence after that, my nerves overpowering me now. My body shakes slightly, and I tap my foot on the ground in an irregular rhythm. Cinna and I don't talk but he holds out his hand towards me and I take it gratefully. Someone brings more food and water but I think I'll throw up if I eat any more. I sip the water gingerly, the liquid almost spilling over the edge of the glass because of my quivering arms.

A pleasant female voice echoes through the room after forever, announcing it's time for launch. I almost throw up right then, but manage to put down the glass I'm holding and stand on the circular metal plate, clenching Cinna's hand.

"Remember to run and find a source of water. The rest will follow," Cinna says, and then adds, "I'm not allowed to bet, but if I could, all my money would be on you."

"Really?" I ask, and Cinna nods.

"Really."

"And Cinna? If we never see each other again, I just want you to know that I really appreciate everything you did for me. You've been a good friend."

The cylinder begins to rise, and I start to panic as Cinna's hands are cut off from mine. "Head held high, Girl on Fire. You can do this." Following Cinna's instructions, I lift my chin up and stand as straight as I can.

* * *

><p><strong>(AN) **

**The Games will completely start next chapter :D **

**Hope you guys enjoyed :)**


	15. Chapter 15

**_**Inferno**_**

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><p><strong>Disclaimer: I am not Suzanne Collins and I don't own the Hunger Games<strong>

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><p><strong>Chapter 15<strong>_  
><em>

* * *

><p>Sixty seconds.<p>

We're given sixty seconds to take in our surroundings and strategize before the gong sounds and we're allowed to take off. My gaze immediately sets on the Cornucopia in front of me, filled with knives and food and blankets. Everything you could possibly need. I'm about to shift my eyes towards my right when I see the bow and arrows set perched on top of a tent, near the horn. My hands are immediately itching to get a hold of them. They're meant for me. The Gamemakers want me to go up there and retrieve them, but I know I can't. I'll surely be killed only half way there, even though I'm a fairly fast runner. I tilt my head to the right, spotting Gale four tributes away from me. He shakes his head, and I know that he's seen the bow and arrows too.

I take in the rest of our environment. There's a lake to my right, a flat plain to my left, and dense woods behind me. I immediately know where I'll be heading.

"Five." Claudius Templesmith's voice fills the arena.

"Four."

I meet eyes with Gale, and he subtly tilts his head towards the woods. _  
><em>

"Three."

My eyes start to wander on the ground in front of me, and I spot a loaf of bread and a backpack, only fifty or so feet away from me. If I'm quick enough, I can grab them and follow Gale into the woods. At least we'll have a bit of food to keep us going for the first few days.

"Two."

I take one last look at Gale.

"One."

The gong sounds and everyone dashes off of their plates, the area a mad rush of blurred bodies and flying objects and weapons.

I make a beeline for the backpack, and sweep it up off the ground. I pivot and start to run for the bread, but someone tugs on the bag's straps and I jerk backwards, coming face-to-face with one of the male tributes. District 7, I think. Before I can react, the boy is suddenly shoved away from me, and Gale comes into my view. He grabs my hand and runs.

"Keep watch," he says, and I turn my head so I'm facing backwards. There's about five hundred feet between us and the woods. I try to keep my head facing backwards, but it's a more difficult task than it seems to be, considering that the backpack I snagged is dangerously close to falling off of my wrist and the bread is barely in my sweaty grasp.

"Knives. Glimmer," I say, my breathing irregular. The tall blonde spots me and Gale fleeing. She has one long knife in each hand, and even though she's hundreds of feet away, I know that she could probably hit us. She never missed a single throw in training. Gale gives me a half-nod to show he heard and pushes harder. My legs are out of my control now, and I'm bound to fall flat on my face any moment.

"Hundred feet more. Hang on," Gale says, breathing heavily.

"Duck!" I yell, my eyes getting wide as I see the girl run and chuck a knife straight at us. It makes a beeline for Gale's head. When he doesn't immediately duck, I all but pounce on him, and we both tumble to the ground. The knife sticks in the dirt in front of us.

"She's...coming...," I gasp, scrambling to my feet. My side aches but I pull Gale up anyway, and he snatches up the knife before stumbling into a run again. I grab my fallen backpack, ignoring Gale's orders to leave it and quickly hike it up my shoulders, starting to run towards Gale.

I shoot a quick glance over my shoulder to see Glimmer charging right at me with her remaining knife, and I run as fast as I can, almost catching up to Gale. A few seconds later, I'm roughly yanked to the side, and I almost trip over myself as I watch Glimmer's remaining knife fly into a thicket of trees. I make a small movement towards the trees, wanting to retrieve the knife, but Gale shakes his head and grips my forearm, breaking into a sprint again.

It's only when we're deep into the woods and the sounds of the bloodbath are only a distant hum do we stop. I stand hunched over with my hands on my knees, trying to catch my breath without choking on air. Gale stands a few feet away from me in the same fashion, and our heavy breathing fills the air for a few minutes until we've finally calmed down enough to speak normally.

"We made it out of the bloodbath," I say, expecting a sense of relief to flood me but finding none. We survived, but I saw at least ten kids get killed. I can't find relief knowing that.

Gale nods. "We should see what we got first and then find a safe place to camp." I lower my backpack to the ground and Gale unzips his own, small black bag, taking out a small sheet of plastic, a flashlight the size of my index finger, a pack of dried fruit, and a water pouch.

I crouch in the grass and carefully zip open my flaming orange backpack. One thin sleeping bag, made of the same material as our jackets, a package of crackers, a few strips of dried beef, a vial of iodine, a box of matches, about a foot of wire, and an empty water bottle, this one a bit more durable than Gale's pouch.

"Not bad," I say, taking out a cracker and splitting it between me and Gale. I quickly gather up my things and tuck them back into my bag, and Gale does the same.

"We'll have to camouflage that," Gale says, nodding at my bag.

"I know."

We both start moving forward, taking Haymitch's advice and trying to find a water source. We walk in half-hour intervals, stopping for short breaks to eat another cracker or to split a dried apricot.

"Maybe the lake was the only source of water," Gale says, looking up at the darkening sky. Still no water, and my mouth is already dry.

"We can't afford to think like that," I say, hoping that there's another source of water somewhere in these endless woods. If there's not, the Gamemakers have guaranteed themselves another bloodbath. Eventually, everyone will be drawn back to the lake if no other water can be found.

We walk for another twenty minutes, until we come by an area of the forest that is filled with willow trees. Perfect for hiding.

"Let's get settled for the night," Gale says, walking up to one of the taller, most covered trees. "You go up on a branch with the sleeping bag. I'll sleep down here and keep watch."

"You'll freeze to death," I say, frowning, "and it's not fair to you to keep watch the whole time. We'll both sleep on the ground and share the sleeping bag."

"No, Catnip. I'm fine. The jackets are supposed to reflect body heat, right?" Gale says, shaking his head.

My backpack seems to glow in the dark as I set it on the ground and take out the sleeping bag, unrolling it. I shove the backpack into a small patch of nearby shrubs, which muffle its bright color.

"We'll fit," I say, setting the sleeping bag on the ground. Long lengths of leaves offer enough coverage.

"But-"

"Come on," I say before he can argue again. Gale sighs, giving up. He lets me climb into the sleeping bag first, and then comes in himself. It's a tight fit, with me almost on top of Gale and him with his arms wrapped around me, but it's comfortable enough.

"Wake me up after three hours," I tell Gale, "so that I can keep watch." I feel him nod. "You'd better actually wake me up. You need sleep, too." He nods again. I know that it's very likely he won't bother waking me up, but there's nothing else I can say to make sure he gets me up for my shift.

I drift off to sleep with Gale gently stroking my hair.

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><p>After what must be only a few hours, I feel a light jab in my side. My eyes open, and I sit up quickly to see Gale crouched by my side. He puts a finger to his lips and gestures to our right side. Warm light flickers somewhere in the forest, not too far away from where we are. Some idiot's started a fire. When-not if- the Careers spot the fire, they might pass by us and spot us. What'll we do then?<p>

Gale presses something cool into my palm, and I look down to see Glimmer's knife in my hand.

I open my mouth to tell Gale to take it, but he shakes his head before I utter a single word. I try again, but he puts a finger on my lips to silence me. I can hear elated shouts and excited chattering coming our way. The Career pack makes no effort to silence themselves. They know they'll catch whoever started the fire one way or another.

I hold my breath as they pass by me and Gale. One of them looks our way and my gaze locks with his for just a second, and my heart nearly stops. But the boy just shakes his head slightly and moves on. I let out a small breath. Gale and I wait for a few minutes, and suddenly the quiet night is filled with the screams of a girl begging for mercy, and the Careers laughing. I grit my teeth. The girl made a mistake, yes, but it's so wrong for her to get killed for it.

A cannon goes off.

The victorious shouts of the Careers fade back in towards our way as they start to go back to wherever they came from. The knife in my hand suddenly makes me nervous for some reason, and I lay it down gently on the sleeping bag beside me. Gale glances my way, his eyes flickering down to the knife. He looks at me questioningly; I shake my head. He shrugs and picks up the with one hand, lacing his other hand with mine.

The Careers come closer and closer until they're right across from us. They start to move away, but then their laughter suddenly dies down and they stop, making me nervous. A murmur runs through the group, and I see the boy who might've spotted me from earlier point a finger in our direction. Gale tugs on my hand and I turn to face him. He jerks his head towards the tree behind us. Maybe if we're higher up, they won't be able to catch us.

"You go first," I barely breath into his ear. "I'm faster at climbing. I can catch up more easily." Gale starts to shake his head but the Careers are starting to approach us, and he shoves the knife into my hand before slinging his bag and my bag over his shoulder and starting to crawl silently towards the tree's trunk. I follow suit, and we both reach the tree at the same time and start to climb in sync.

The Careers start hooting and shouting to each other when they spot both of us making our way up the tree trunk. The orange bag on Gale's backpack is literally glowing in the dark, giving the Careers an exact path of his to follow. There's no point in dropping it now, though.

We climb the tree feverishly as the Careers sprint towards us, a weaponless Cato in the lead. In my haste, I lose my footing, almost falling off the tree, and I stick my knife in the wood for support as I scramble to regain my balance. I throw a quick glance over my shoulder to see Cato fast approaching me. He's only a foot or two away. Gale perches on one of the lowest branches and looks down to see me struggling, and his eyes widen as he extends a hand towards me. I grip his hand and haul myself up, trying to use the knife handle as a foothold, but I feel someone else grab my foot and roughly yank it.

Gale pulls harder on my arm and I focus every ounce of my energy into moving up and towards Gale. Cato has a better grip on my leg, though, and being on the ground gives him more control. In just a few moments, I'm twisting backwards and falling at Cato's feet.

He grabs me roughly by my shoulders and yanks me to my feet. In one quick movement, he has my arms in some sort of twist behind my back and I'm pinned against the wide tree trunk. He laughs in my face. "And these rats got an 11 and 12 in training," he says, looking back at the rest of his lackeys.

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><p><strong>(AN) **

**I apologize for the extremely long gap between the last chapter and this one. My school's starting to wrap up, so all of my teachers have been keeping me busy this whole month. I'll try to update a bit more often after this :) **


	16. Chapter 16

**_**Inferno**_**

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><p><strong>Disclaimer: I am not Suzanne Collins and I don't own the Hunger Games<strong>

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><p><strong>Chapter 16<strong>_  
><em>

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><p>I try to crane my neck and see where Gale is, but Cato roughly rams me against the tree again. My skull reverberates from the impact, and darkness briefly stains the corners of my vision. I breath hard and try to focus myself so that I don't pass out.<p>

"Not coming down, are you?" Cato calls up to the tree, his tone mocking. The Career pack snickers. "Come and save your girlfriend, Loverboy."

There's no reply. Everything is eerily quiet.

"Just kill her, Cato," Glimmer says, sounding annoyed. "The stupid coward's not coming down anytime soon."

I grit my teeth.

"Gale is not a freaking c-"

Cato swiftly elbows me in the stomach, and on instinct I start to double over, but Cato holds me flat against the tree, his right arm pressed flat against me, digging into my ribs.

"You don't talk unless I give you permission first. Understood?" he asks, lowering his face until he's at eye level with me. He looks even scarier like this, the moonlight illuminating his sharp features. I ignore the dull ache in my stomach and force myself to nod. Cato straightens up and eases his crushing hold on my ribcage.

"Someone toss me a knife. We'll take this rat back to camp with us," Cato says, turning to the person nearest to him. He is handed a knife, and the cool metal is pressed against my throat. I tremble slightly, finally starting to panic.

"Cato!" A girl's strangled cry comes from off to my right. Cato jerks his head in the direction of the noise.

"Clove?"

"Cato, the rat," she starts, but her voice is muffled after that and I don't catch any other words. Cato takes the knife away from my throat and practically throws me at the closest Career, which happens to be the District 1 male. Marvel. Someone hands him another knife and it's subsequently pressed up against my neck, Marvel's other hand holding my wrists behind my back.

I can just make out Gale's outline at the shadowed edges of the woods, his arms around Clove's neck in a loose chokehold. Everyone has fallen completely quiet, and the still night only adds to the suffocating silence.

"Let her go." Cato's low growl can be clearly heard. "How the_ hell_ did you even get all the way here?"

I almost smile at that. _Gale and his silent footsteps. _

"Why should I?" Gale asks, ignoring Cato's question.

"We have your girlfriend at knife point. I can give easily give the signal and she'll be killed on the spot," Cato says.

"I can suffocate _your_ girlfriend just as easily," Gale says. Clove lets out a small gasp, and I assume Gale has just demonstrated his point.

"She's not my girlfriend."

"I beg to differ."

After a few heartbeats, Cato angrily calls out, "Marvel! Bring the girl over here!"

Marvel shoves me forward and we slowly start to walk towards Cato, our combined footsteps producing an uneven rhythm. The knife digs just a bit deeper into my skin every time I fall a bit short of Marvel's pace, and I can feel the rest of the Career pack's eyes on me as we make our slow progress.

"Drop your knife," Gale says to Cato, once Marvel and I have finished our short journey. To my surprise, Cato sticks his knife in the ground with no further comments. I watch him looking at Clove with concern, and I know that me and Gale aren't the only supposed star-crossed lovers in the Arena.

"On the count of three," Cato says, barely giving Marvel a glance.

"Wait," Gale says, and I can just make out his slight frown. "How do I know you won't just kill her?"

"You'll just have to trust us on that, won't you?" Cato says with an irritatingly self-assured smile. Gale's expression hardens. "One, two...three."

Gale releases his hold on Clove and pushes her towards Cato at the same time that Marvel takes the knife away from my throat and shoves me at Gale. I nearly trip over my own feet at the force, but Gale stoops down and steadies me quickly. Lacing his hand with mine, we start to run wildly into the woods, Gale's dark bag bouncing on his shoulder. The neon orange backpack, along with our only knife, is left in the tree, free for the Careers to take.

_If they can climb it. _

I glance back once while running to see Clove snatching Marvel's knife and aiming it at us. I grip Gale's forearm and turn sharply towards the right. Seconds later, I hear the knife whiz by, and a dull thud as it hits the ground, missing its targets. Gale and I don't look back, taking random twists and turns, making sure we completely lose the Careers. If they didn't have enough reason to want us dead before, they certainly do now. Taking the ringleader's girlfriend definitely fueled the anger.

As we run, a few times I think I hear some sort of animal scampering behind us. It's too dark to see anything, though, so all we can do is run faster and hope that whatever it is isn't fast enough to catch up.

After a while, the dirt seems to get more loose and it flies freely around us, and I feel small rocks under my feet as we pass over rockier ground. At the last possible moment, I realize that we're running straight towards a cliff. "Gale," I start, trying unsuccessfully to stop myself. My legs keep running, forcing the rest of my body to keep up. "I think we're going to-"

My stomach lurches as Gale and run right over the edge of a small drop, tumbling uncontrollably into the valley that lies below. Gale's body becomes entangled with mine as we roll over countless rocks and rip right through branches. I close my eyes, trying to stop the vertigo threatening to overtake me, and wrap my arms around Gale as best as I can to anchor me. We come to a sudden stop, with Gale on top of me. After regaining some of our senses, I feel him roll off of me so that he's laying on my right side. I open my eyes briefly, but the world is still swaying and I immediately close them again until I don't feel as sick.

"Do you still have your pack?" I ask Gale, my voice sounding distorted. It seems inappropriate that the first thing I ask about is the pack, given all that's happened. Gale's hands go to his shoulders, and he takes off the bag.

"Yeah," he says, unzipping it. He takes out a squished piece of dried fruit, offering me some. I wave him off, sure that if I eat something right now I'll immediately bring it back up.

"That was close," I mumble, nestling into his side once he finishes his meager snack.

"Close," he echoes, resting his chin on my head.

Now that I can think clearly again, I'm seriously starting to reconsider our odds of surviving without that stupid orange backpack and knife.

"Gale, my pack's still in the tree," I say, looking straight up into the sky.

"If you're worried about the Careers getting it, they won't. You've seen them. They can't climb."

"I know, but it had iodine in it. Even if we find a water source now, we have no way to make sure drinking the water won't kill us. Plus, the knife's still stuck in the tree. We could've used that to hunt but now-"

"Shh, Catnip. There's no use worrying about it now. It's done. You know you can't change what happened," Gale says, and I sigh. He opens his mouth to say something else, but the Capitol anthem interrupts him. I sit up slowly, looking at the sky, and Gale does the same.

Faces start to appear in the darkness. Both tributes from District 3, the boy from District 4, the boy from 5, both from 6, both from 7, the girl from 9 who made the fire, and the girl from 10. The anthem fades out after that and the sky goes dark again.

"I guess Rue survived then, huh?" I say.

"I expected her to make it," Gale says simply. I nod, even though I'm not sure Gale can see me.

I gasp as I feel sharp stings on my arms and legs as I go to lie back down. With nothing to distract me now, I can suddenly feel all of the various cuts and bruises covering me.

"You okay?" Gale asks, turning to look at me, wincing lightly at the movement. I see a small cut on his neck, right below his jaw.

"I'm fine," I say, leaning my head back and trying to ignore the stinging and aches. Gale's gaze lingers on me for a moment longer, but he turns back around to look into the woods. There's nothing we can do. Besides, they're laughable injuries. We could've fared far worse.

After a few moments of silence, Gale says, "I'll keep first watch. Go to sleep, Catnip."

I want to argue, but sleep sounds incredibly inviting and I curl up into myself without a second thought.

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><p><strong>(AN)**

**Thanks again to all of my wonderful reviewers and readers, and I hope you enjoyed :)**


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